BOYS 

OF THE 

OLD SEA BED 



McCONNELL 



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COPYRIGHT DEFOSIT. 



Boys of the Old Sea Bed 

Tales of Nature and Adventure 



By 

Charles Allen McConnell 



Publishing House of the 

Pentecostal Church of the Nazakene 

kansas city, missouri 

1913 



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Copyright, 1913 

Publishing House of the 

Pentecostal Church of the Nazarene 



MAY -2 13(4 



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DEDICATION 

to the memory of my brother robert, one of the "boys 
of the Old Sea Bed," who, though passing out into the 
Great Beyond while yet young, wkote his name high up 
among those to whoji the world accords fame, this little 
volume of boyhood tales is affectionately dedicated. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER. PAGE 

I. In the Bed of an Ancient Sea 9 

II. Catching the Fawn 16 

III. The Great Blue Heron 23 

IV. The Forest Fire 29 

V. The First Deer Hunt 36 

VI. The Indian War Dance 42 

VII. The Floating Bog 55 

VIII. The Wayside Tavern 63 

IX. Adventure on Lake Cheteck 69 

X. The Paint Mine 79 

XI. Trapping Game Birds 91 

XII. The Moundbuilders 103 

XIII. Cooking in Camp 114 

XIV. Winter in the Lumber Woods 128 

XV. Over the Rapids 140 

XVI. The Gift of the Flood 151 

XVII. The Tragedy of the Mounds 160 

XVIII. College Days 169 



FOREWORD 

These tales are at last put upon paper, after hav- 
ing served the demands of a generation of little folk 
— now grown tall — for stories of "when papa was 
a boy." All the tales are founded upon facts, and 
many are incidents and experiences reproduced as 
faithfully as memory paints the pictures. 

The red men are gone ; the great forest is no more ; 
railroads and cities and farms occupy the bottom of 
the "Old Sea Bed. 1 ' But the same courage and hardi- 
hood and clean living which marked the pioneers of 
near a half century ago is still the hope of America. 
Charles Allen McConnell. 

Kansas City, Mo., October, 1913. 



CHAPTER I 
IN THE BED OF AN ANCIENT SEA 

Men of science who have made a study of the earth's 
surface, say that Lake Erie, from which flows Niagara 
river northward into Lake Ontario, will, in a certain, 
or uncertain, number of years, go dry, and Avhat is now 
a wide though shallow sheet of water become a plain, 
through which may meander a slowly-flowing river. 
The reason for this prediction is that Niagara Falls, 
which have cut their way back from Lewiston through 
a gorge some seven miles, and are still eating their way 
through the limestone and the softer underlying shale 
at the rate of -more than two feet a year, will finally 
accomplish "their journey, and the great lake be reached 
and drained. 

A similar event seems really to have occurred in 
the past history of the earth near the geographical 
center of the state of Wisconsin. Draw a line through 
the center of the map of this state, from north to south, 
and then another from east to west, at a little more 
than one-third of the way up from the southern bound- 
ary, and at the intersection you will have the location 
of the lower end of what appears to have been an an- 
cient lake, or inland sea. 

The eastern boundary, evidently, was a range of 
hills some forty miles to the east, along whose sides, 



10 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

fifty years ago, were easily recognized traces of suc- 
cessive diminishing shore lines, in rows of water- worn 
pebbles and shells. 

The southern boundary is marked by sandstone 
bluffs, which bear the fantastic carving of waves. 
Rising nearly perpendicular from the sands like the 
front of some gigantic ramparts of a fortress, an hun- 
dred or more feet, the upper portions are fashioned 
into turrets, bastions, and domes, until at a distance 
it is difficult to believe that one is not looking upon 
some mighty work of man. 

Here and there, many miles apart, huge granite 
rocks rear their heads hundreds of feet above the plain 
— islands of *the old sea. 

Of course caves abound in these water-worn bluffs, 
and these were found, in the early days of settlement, 
to be the homes and hiding places of bears, wolves, 
panthers, and the even more dreaded "Indian-devil," 
or northern lynx. Not infrequently they were utilized 
for temporary human habitation. Indeed, one of 
these very caves became the last hiding place of Black 
Hawk, the famous Indian chief, as he sought escape 
from the white man after the failure of the war he had 
waged, like his predecessor, Tecumseh, in hope of 
uniting the various tribes against the crowding, ap- 
propriating paleface. 

Near the present city of Kilbourn, at what is known 
as the Delles, the Wisconsin river breaks through the 
rocky barrier and pours its foaming flood down a nar- 
row gorge that is only exceeded in size, and not at all 



IN THE BED OF AN ANCIENT SEA 11 

in wild beauty and granduer, by the gorge and rapids 
below Niagara. The falls have worn their way 
through, but evidently, here was the Niagara of the 
ancient sea. 

The shallower part of the old sea was the eastern 
portion, where in width of fifty miles or more, in the 
time of which I write, there stretched a level waste 
of sand. It was to this floor of the old sea that people 
from the eastern states flocked by thousands, at the 
time of the "hop boom," when it was discovered that 
this vine could be grown and would bear fairly good 
crops upon these sands. The ground was easily worked, 
and while the hop plant required two years to come 
into bearing, the profit from the dried blossoms was 
enormous, and the settlers saw great fortunes ahead. 
Mone} r was borrowed, possessions in many cases mort- 
gaged, fine houses erected, drying kilns built, hop 
roots planted, and the slender tamarack poles upon 
which the vines were to climb to the ripening sun- 
light, were set into the ground. The country was set- 
tled. The first immigrants harvested one crop at the 
bonanza price. Then rumors came of an enormous 
crop thrown upon the market from the fields of Wash- 
ington and Oregon, new lands of the Pacific coast. The 
second season found the market overstocked, and prices 
tumbled from sixty cents to eight and ten cents per 
pound, which was less than would pay the expense of 
picking. Hundreds of the settlers never harvested 
their first crop. For years afterward one could travel 
miles across the sand and see nothing but deserted 



12 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

houses with abandoned farms growing up to stunted 
pines. 

Among those who had lost in the hop venture, was 
the family of John Allen, in which were two boys, 
Eobert and Ed, lads of twelve and ten years. The 
Aliens, coming of the rugged Scotch-Irish stock, had 
no thought of returning to their old home "back east" 
defeated, but pushed further westward into the wilder- 
ness. Coming to the river in the time of low water, 
they easily crossed the broad bed of the "Ouis-kon- 
sin," or, as the modern spelling has it, the "Wisconsin" 
river, and pushed on past the sandy plains ay est of 
the river over into the western half of the old lake 
bed. It was among the beautiful hardwood trees that 
lined the banks of the golden-hued Ne-ce-dah, or Yel- 
low river, that they halted and said, "This shall be 
home." 

To the city -bred boys the land was one of perpetual 
wonder, and their sturdy bodies and enquiring minds 
were actively employed. Of course there was much 
work to do, fencing and clearing willow shrubs from 
the land, making hay for the winter use of their stock, 
but Mr. Allen was wise enough to give the boys a large 
portion of time for their "education," as he called their 
excursions into the forest and along the river. 

Coming home from one of these trips, the boys 
were seen to be in a state of excitement, and almost 
before they were near enough to be understood they 
were shouting, "Neighbors, neighbors! Just around the 
big bend." It was a happy discovery for the Aliens, 



IN THE BED OF AN ANCIENT SEA 



as the new-found neighbors proved to be a family 
who had come, several years before, from Ohio, and 
whose young son, Dauphin, was about the age of the 
Allen boys. The name of the family was Thompson, 
the wife, Ruth, being the only daughter of "Old John 
Brown," whose soul "goes marching on." 

During the years the Aliens were neighbors to this 
family, they came to learn much* of the life and char- 
acter of that strange man who was hated as no other 
man by the slaveholders of his time, and, probably, 
was as little understood by those of the north who 
apologized for him. To this humble home of their 
only sister, in the wilderness, there came, as occasional 
guests, one and another of the sons who remained 
of the man who threw away his life at Harper's Ferry, 
that a people might be aroused to a knowledge of the 
sin of human slavery. Ruth, they said, was the woman- 
ly image of her father. She had an abundance of red 
hair like his, had his features, and more, was like him 
in spirit. With all the ardor of youthful hero-wor- 
ship the Allen boys bestowed homage upon John 
Brown's daughter, Ruth Thompson. If she was like 
her father, he had been patient in trial, sweet of spirit 
in affliction, tender in love for the unfortunate, and 
utterly void of any desire of retaliation for injuries 
received. The hair of the Allen boys is silvering, and 
Ruth has long .ago passed to her rest, yet they do not 
forget an incident which reveals the Christ-like spirit 
of the daughter of "Old John Brown'' — and perhaps 
of the father. 



14 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

It was upon the visit of John Brown, Jr., the son 
who had charge of the Canadian end of the "under- 
ground railway" over which so many of the slaves of 
the South had found their way to freedom, that Mr. 
Thompson and "Uncle Sam," a younger brother, both 
of whom were in the attack upon the arsenal at Har- 
per's Ferry, and had lost other brothers in that raid, 
were recalling the time when John, Jr., had been taken 
by the '"bushwhackers," 1 tied to the tail of a horse and 
compelled to run. at great speed for several miles, or be 
dragged to death. John, Jr., was a heavy man, and 
the fearful experience brought on a heart trouble from 
which he suffered all the rest of his life. The men, as 
they talked over those days of sorrow and trial, would 
occasionally utter some stout words against their per- 
secutors, but quickly Ruth would break in, in her 
gentle voice — "Boys, boys! Speak evil of none. 'Ven- 
geance is mine, saith the Lord.' It may be those poor 
men thought they were doing right." 

Never did the Allen boys hear one unkind word 
from this daughter against the government, the in- 
dividuals, or the section that had imposed upon her 
father an ignominious death. 

Dauphin Thompson and the Allen boys became 
great friends and inseparable companions, and in the 
"education" of the latter the grandson of *'01d John 
BroAvn" not only joined, but was able to initiate them 
into many of the mysteries of wood and stream. The 
Allen boys had new breech-loading shotguns, but 
Dauphin was the proud possessor of the carbine which 



IN THE BED OF AN ANCIENT SEA 15 

his father had caried from Osawatomie to Harper's 
Ferry, and which had been fitted for small-shot cart- 
ridges. 

To the north, from which the Yellow river flowed, 
lay the vast, unbroken forests of pine; to the west 
stretched many miles of swamp and low-lying prairie. 
In the summer these prairies were covered with grass 
often so high as to completely hide the tallest man 
walking through. Game abounded. Deer were so un- 
afraid that frequently the boys would find them quiet- 
ly feeding among the cattle when they went at night 
to bring home the milch cows. Bears, panthers, and 
wild cats came at night to call, and left their "cards" 
in great tracks on the sand along the river front of the 
new home. 

Here, in the bottom of the ancient sea, these boys 
began lessons which made of two of them stalwart, 
honored men, and which one of them had the good 
fortune to supplement, at a later day, in college. 



CHAPTER II 
CATCHING THE FAWN 

The first winter after the Allen family moved to 
their new home on the Necedah river was unusually 
severe and long. While in that section of Wisconsin 
deep snows were not uncommon, this year they had 
started in about the middle of October, and by Christ- 
mas lay piled in great drifts, like small hills, in places, 
while on the level even the top rail of the "stake-and- 
rider" fence about the buildings was covered, and over 
which the boys, Rob and Ed, hauled loads of hay in 
their sleds. Between the house and stable there was 
one huge drift, higher than either building, through 
which the boys cut a tunnel large enough to drive 
through with their team of steers and bob-sled. 

Uncle Sam Thompson, who was wise in the ways of 
weather, prophesied a spring flood that would sweep 
away the fences and come up into the houses; and, 
indeed, such a flood did occur a few years later, but 
this year the winter held on so late into the spring, and 
the snows melted away so slowly and gradually, that 
the feared high water did not come. 

The Allen boys were initiated into a new and de- 
lightful experience in the latter days of March. Warm 
days would be followed by freezing nights, which, 
Uncle Sam declared, were ideal "sap" conditions. 

16 



CATCHING THE FAWN 17 

Hundreds of great maple trees lined the river, and 
while they were not of the "rock," or regular sugar 
variety, but the "soft'' maple, yet the sap held enough 
of sweet to yield a fair amount of sugar. 

To less sturdy youths the trudging through melting 
snow and wading in icy water would have been ac- 
counted anything but a pastime, but the Allen boys 
and their chum, Dauphin Thompson, worked at the 
sugar making with zeal and zest. Uncle Sam showed 
them how to "tap" the trees. First, a hole would be 
bored into the tree trunk with an inch augur, then a 
V-shaped notch would be cut through the bark just 
above it. Into the augur hole would be driven a 
"spile," or piece of grooved wood, down which the 
sap from the V-shaped cut would run. At the foot of 
the tree, under the spout, would be placed a wooden 
trough, hollowed out from a block of the light linden, 
or "basswood." 

To carry the sap home to the big kettles which were 
kept constantly boiling, reducing the thin sap to syrup, 
and finally "sugaring off" into the delectable sweet 
cakes, a yoke of ash was made fitting over the shoul- 
ders, with projecting ends. To these ends were at- 
tached ropes which were fastened each to a large 
bucket. These buckets the boys would fill with sap 
from the trees, and from the farthest point, trudge 
home a mile" through water and melting snow. It was 
no easy play, and aching backs and limbs severely 
tested their courage, yet the boys felt amply repaid 
for it all in the two hundred pounds of cakes of the 



IS BOYS OF THE OED SEA BED 

delicious sweet they thus harvested during the two 
weeks of the "run." 

By the time the sugar harvest was over, wild ducks 
had begun to appear, and the lagoons and deep places 
in the marshes were noisy at night and early morning 
with their quacking. While most of the wild fowl 
passed on to their summer home in the lake region of 
Canada, some of the ducks built their nests and reared 
their young in the marshes and along the rivers of that 
section. Among these were the mallards, large, beauti- 
ful birds. 

The boys had frequently noticed a pair of these 
ducks at Eound Slough in the latter days of their sap 
gathering, and had planned to hunt for the nest and 
secure the eggs which they proposed to place for hatch- 
ing under a hen. Mrs. Thompson had told the boys 
that she had known the mallards to be domesticated 
when hatched away from the wild mother, but care 
had to be taken to keep them confined at migrating- 
time in the fall, else they would try to follow off their 
wild cousins as they flew over. 

Spring work pressed so heavily that the boys did 
not get it; visit Round Slough until in May, when one 
bright day came with the coveted vacation. The slough 
was back from the river perhaps a quarter of a mile. 
It was several rods in diameter, of great depth, and 
perfectly round. The banks were high and sloped 
away from the hole, as well as toward the water. Xo 
trees were growing near the edge, but the sides of the 



CATCHING THE FAWN 



19 



rim were covered with "blue-joint" grass already waist 
high. 

The boys approached the slough cautiously. "There 

they are,** whispered Dauphin. "But see what the old 
ducks have." Foe, spouting in the water, standing on 
their heads, waving their funny, big feet in the air, 
and chasing water bugs, were a dozen downy, yellow 
ducklings. 

"Let's drive them to land and catch them," said 
Ed. 

So the boys dashed up to the water's edge and began 
to throw in sticks and to "shoo." The father duck flew 
away, but the mother kept with her babies and paddled 
to the other side. 

"I'll watch this side and keep up the fuss," said 
Rob, "and you boys can run around and catch them in 
the grass. You see just where they went out." 

"Why, there they are," called Dauphin, "away over 
on that side." And sure enough, there were the mother 
duck and her babies skirting the bank, in the water 
again. Time and again the boys chased the little 
family from the slough, only to lose sight of them en- 
tirely "just where they went out." The boys were 
separated now on three sides of the slough, when sud- 
denly there was a great splash in the water and a doe 
came swimming across, making, as the boy thought,, 
straight for Rob. A deer is no mean antagonist, and 
Rob scrambled out of the way, while the animal went 
crashing through the bushes. 

Over where Dauphin had been there was a great 



20 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

threshing about in the grass, and a boy's voice shout- 
ing, "Help ! help ! come quick." Ed and Rob hurried 
around the slough, and there was Dauphin trying to 
hold down a young fawn which was making desperate 
efforts to escape. But for the arrival of the other boys 
it might have succeeded in tumbling Dauphin into the 
deep water. The three boys easily handled the little 
creature, but Robs hand bore the imprint of one of 
its sharp hoofs for many a day. 

"I almost stumbled over the old deer," said Dau- 
phin, "and I never would have discovered this little 
chap if I hadn't fallen over him. However did they 
manage to hide so well and keep so still while we were 
running all about them?" 

The fawn, which was probably two weeks old, was 
"all legs," as the Allen boys expressed it. The back 
of his brown coat was flecked with spots of white, 
while his under parts were pure white. Tying both 
his front and hind legs with their handkerchiefs, the 
boys took turns in carrying their new pet home, where 
they soon succeeded in teaching it to drink milk. 
When it was caught it could easily run about under 
the kitchen table, but it throve and grew so rapidly 
and became so boistrous in its manifestations of friend- 
ship, that, in a few weeks, Mrs. Thompson declared 
it had outgrown its place of household pet. 

The boys built a pen of rails, and cut fresh grass 
for it every day, and later in the season at the advice 
of Mr. Thompson, added the twigs of the poplar or 
aspen to its diet. They would cut down a young tree 



CATCHING THE FAWN 21 

and stand it in the corner of the pen. When the fawn 
had nibbled all the tender twigs from the lower limbs 
he would rise upon his hind legs and walk about the 
tree on two feet, browsing from the higher branches, 
just as though that was the natural way for a deer to 
get about, as indeed it was in a situation of that kind. 

As the fall approached the young deer began to lose 
his spotted coat of brown, and take on a winter suit of 
grey. Little hard knobs could be felt on his head where 
the "spikes," or one-prong horns would appear the 
following months. Like a rapidly developing boy he 
began to take on "manish" wa} 7 s, and to show an in- 
tention of "seeing the world." Although the boys in- 
creased the height of his pen to ten rails, even that 
would not hold him when the desire to roam came too 
strongly upon him. 

On one of these occasions, when the boys had missed 
him from the pen, they came across him a quarter of 
a mile away in the meadow, acting in a peculiar man- 
ner. Long before they reached him they could hear 
his angry snorts and could see the hair along the ridge 
of his back sticking up like quills upon a porcupine. 
The young deer w y as dancing around in a circle, face 
toward the center, now advancing, now springing 
quickly back, all the time his eyes fixed upon one 
spot. Just as the boys were drawing near he gave a 
spring into the air, and, bunching his four feet to- 
gether, came clown like a bolt out of the sky. The 
stroke was evidently effective, for on the ground was 
the writhing threshing body of a huge black rattle- 



L'2 HOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

.snake, the dreaded massasauger, with head severed 
from the body as cleanly as if cut with a knife. The 
sharp hoofs had done quick and sure execution. 

I liable to keep the deer in confinement as he would 
grow Larger the boys disposed of him for a good sum 
to a collector for an eastern city park. 



CHAPTER III 
THE GREAT BEUE HERON 

"Dauph," said Robert Allen one morning in early 
spring, "I saw a pair of wood ducks over in Cut-off 
Slough yesterday, and the drake had the handsomest 
plumage I ever saw on a bird. He would make a fine 
specimen for your collection." 

Dauphin was a "born naturalist," as his father 
called him, which meant that the lad had a sense of 
the beauty and wonder of nature, and went about with 
his eyes open. From the furred and feathered dwellers 
of the wilderness into which the family had moved, 
when Dauphin was a small child, he hail secured and 
mounted a collection of specimens that would have 
graced the great college which it was his ambition 
some day to attend. 

"Let's go over and have a look at him in the morn- 
ing, Rob,*' eagerly responded Dauphin. 

Rob agreed, but it was rather late in the afternoon 
instead of early in the morning, as they had planned, 
before the boys were ready for their trip. 

Cut-off Slough had once been a part of the river. A 
long bend, a mile around, had, in a time of unusual 
high water, been cut off by the Hood breaking over and 
wearing a new channel through the narrow neck of 
land, not more than fifty feet across. The hundred or 

23 



24 BOYS OF TIIE OLD SEA BED 

more acres enclosed in the great bend had now become 
an island, and the old bed of the river a deep lagoon, 
or slough, as it was called, making an ideal home for 
fish and wild fowl. The wearing of the new channel 
of the river had formed a bar of sand across the mouth 
of the lagoon, high and dry during the summer, but 
now, in the spring rise, overflowed, so that the boys 
waded knee deep in the cold water to gain it's banks. 

Great trees, oak, maple, linden, birch, and ash, 
overhung the still water, and the western sun cast dark 
shadows almost across its surface. 

"It's lucky for us it isn't July," said Dauphin, "or 
we couldn't stay in this place without face nets; the 
mosquitoes would eat us alive." 

"Seems to me they are bad enough now,'* replied 
Rob, slapping at a dozen big fellows that had struck 
his face. "Sh-sh ! there is our beauty and his sober 
wife. Over there by the stump with the white streaks. 
and the limb sticking up." 

"Too far for these small shot," whispered Dauphin ; 
I don't want to use large shot; spoils the plumage. 
Let's crawl closer." 

The two boys crouched down, and on hands and 

knees slowly crawled through the tall grass and reeds 

♦ . . . . 

to where a point of land jutting out into the water 

would give them the advantage they sought. But 
just as Dauphin was about the fire the shot that would 
add another valuable specimen to his collection, some- 
thing occurred that drove all thoughts of ducks from 
their mind. The "stump" lowered its "limb" that 



THE GKEAT BLUE HEEON 25 

had been sticking straight up, and out from its sides 
spread two wings, fully eight feet from tip to tip. 
As the "limb" bent over, the white streaks down the 
"stump" stood out in regal plumes from the crest of 
a magnificent bird. 

"Oh, Rob," gasped Dauphin, "il must be the Great 
Blue Heron. T have never seen one before, but Pro- 
fessor Hodge's son Clifton, at Carleton, sent me the 
picture of one, and told me to keep my eves open for 
him. He says they are rare now, though they used to 
be numerous, especially in the northern part of the 
state, and the college has no specimen of the bird." 

"Let me get him for you," said Rob. "The heavy 
shot in my gun will do surer work than your fine shot." 
But before Rob could get aim, the great bird began 
to move about in such a peculiar way that both boys 
could only stare in wonder. Stepping out upon the 
sandbar the heron crouched or squatted down, and 
began to go around and around, backward and for- 
ward, in a sort of hop and skip. Then the boys saw 
coming down the sand from out the shadows the cause 
of all this strange bowing and scraping by the big 
bird. A second heron, not bright blue as the first, but 
clad in more somber garments of bluish-grey, walked 
solemnly toward her prospective lord and master. 
Approaching each other, both birds stood perfectly 
still — as motionless as statues, their long bills pointing- 
straight up, and each balancing upon one foot. They 
stood this way for a full minute, as if in solemn con- 
templation, and then both joined in the mysteriou 2 



26 BOYS OF TIIE OLD SEA BED 

gyrations. Approaching each other with wings out- 
stretched, in the indescribably funny waltz step, they 
would touch the tips of their bills and bow to the 
ground two or three times. Then they would sep- 
arate and go waltzing past each other with the hop 
and skip, back and forth, around and around, finally 
to come and touch bills and go to bowing again. 

The whole performance was so comical that the 
boys rolled over in the grass shaking with merriment, 
and Rob, unable to restrain his hilarity, gave a loud 
"ha ! ha !" At once there was a flap of wings and the 
female bird went sailing over the tops of the trees. 
The blue heron, he of the royal plumes, however, after 
one upward spring, settled down and stood in dignified 
stolidity, apparently gazing at the sky. 

"Shoot! Bob, shoot!" cried Dauphin. "Get him 
before he can get away." 

"No, no," said Eob. "Don't you see he's fast some 
way? He's wound some of that tough grass around 
one of his legs. Let's catch him alive. Think of the 
money we can make taking him around showing him. 
Or maybe we can sell iiim to the professor in your 
college for a big sum. Surely a live bird will bring 
more than a mere specimen." 

The boys threw down their guns and made a rush 
in the direction of the great bird. But the ground 
where the dancing part}' had been held was more 
adapted to bird than human feet, and their progress 
was slow as they sank half way to their knees in the 
soft earth and water. 



THE GREAT BLUE HERON 27 

"You stay on this side while I'll go around behind, 
and we'll make a grab at him together. "We can hold 
him all right," said Rob. 

"Now," said Dauphin, "catch him around his wings, 
and I'll hold his legs." And both boys made a rush. 
The big bird made another unavailing attempt to rise, 
then, aAvaiting the attack, drew back the long neck, 
and with the white plumes standing straight out be- 
hind, sent his bill like a sword-thrust straight at 
Dauphin's breast. There was a sound of the impact 
of the blow, a moan from the boy, who sank crumpled 
up to the ground, and, with another mighty lift of the 
huge wings the Great Blue Heron was free. 

Plunging through the rushes and mud, Rob reached 
his chum, carried him up the bank, and opened his 
thick hunting jacket and shirt. The long bill of the 
bird had evidently broken a rib, but had not pene- 
trated the flesh. In a moment Dauphin opened his 
eyes. "My ! what was it ? I can't breathe. Who 
would have thought that pesky bird could strike like 
that?" And, indeed, Dauphin was fortunate to have 
escaped with the discomfort of a broken rib, that 
would be "as good as new" in a couple of weeks. The 
strength and thickness of his buckskin jacket probably 
saved his life, for less than a fortnight later a young 
Indian of a nearby camp, struck upon the bare side b}^ 
the bill of a "sandhill" crane, a much smaller bird 
than the Great Blue Heron, was pierced to the heart 
and instantly killed. 



28 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

"Well," said Rob, "we didn't get any specimens, 
but we did get to attend the heron's ball." 

"Yes," replied Dauphin, "but I think the next time 
I go will be when I am an invited guest." 



CHAPTER IV 

THE FOREST FIRE 

Those who were boys and girls in the Middle West 
in the year 1871, will have a vivid remembrance of the 
great comet that moved across the northern sky during 
the month of August. It was so large and brilliant, 
that before the sun had been altogether hidden in the 
west, the fiery orb of this celestial stranger could 
be seen glowing and as night came on the long tail 
would appear spreading out in a fan of light half 
way across the heavens. Mr. Allen was an educated 
man, whose favorite study in his school days had been 
astronomy, and although he had instructed his young 
sons as to the facts concerning comets, their relation 
to other heavenly bodies and to the earth, the rumor 
which had found its way into this Wisconsin wilder- 
ness home, that the world was to be destroyed by the 
"fervent heat" of this flaming visitor, had its effect 
upon the boys. 

To the natural fear of the marvelous and un- 
usual in thesky, was added the alarming conditions 
of a severe drouth, all over the country. Dauphin had 
told the boys how a burning wad from his gun had 
set fire to the dry peat in a marsh to the west, and the 
"ground" had been burning there in great holes for 

29 



30 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

more than a week. Before the close of July the river 
had ceased to run, and water was only to be found 
in the deep holes of its bed. The sky was brassy-look- 
ing in the day, and at night the moon had the appear- 
ance of blood. Then came weeks when a thick haze 
hung over all the land, and the sickly, yellow-hued 
sun could be looked upon with naked eyes. It seemed 
as if all nature was disturbed, frightened, and await- 
ing some impending calamity. The wild creatures of 
the forest, birds and animals, became strangely nu- 
merous. Deer were seen about the water holes in the 
day time, and seemed scarcly frightned when ap- 
proached. Grey, black, and big, red fox-squirrels 
swarmed in the trees and on the fences. The little 
patch of sod corn the boys had planted on the ki new 
breaking" that spring was harvested in the milk by 
the southward-moving emigrants of the forest. 

A timber scout stopped over night at the hospit- 
able home of Mr. Thompson and told how the little, 
lumber-manufacturing town of Peshtigo, up in the big 
woods northwest, had been wiped out by fire, scores 
of the inhabitants perishing before they could reach 
the river, so sudden was the coming of the storm of 
flame over the forest. Many others had been suf- 
focated with smoke or overcome by the fierce heat and 
drowned even after they had reached the water. u The 
big woods from Lake Superior to Green Bay are burn- 
ing," said the traveler. 

But what caused the more anxiety to the Aliens 



THE FOREST FIRE 



31 



was the rumor he had heard at Pete-en-well Ferry that 
Chicago had been destroyed by fire, and nearly all the 
people burned. 

The closing up of a matter of his former business 
had called Mr. Alien to that city some two weeks pre- 
vious, and as it was past the time set for his return, 
the rumor brought by the timberman filled the family 
with alarm. Letters were rare with dwellers in that 
forest wilderness, but occasional trips were made to 
Dexter Crossing, where "tote" teams passing to the 
camps along the rivers of the far north would leave 
mail forwarded on to these settlers by the postmasters 
at the towns below. 

Rob being the elder of the boys, proposed to make 
the trip at once to Dexter Crossing in the chance of, a 
letter having been sent there to them by their father. 
There was, of course, danger that the great fire of 
the northeast might sweep down upon them any day. 
and as Dexter was well within the big woods the fate 
of one caught out there could be fearfully imagined. 
But the anxiety of the family as to the safety of Mr. 
Allen outweighed their caution, and Mrs. Allen gave 
her concent for Rob to make the trip. 

The lad reached the settlement at Dexter Cross- 
ing safely, and to his joy found there a letter from his 
father. A great fire had indeed swept over the Aery 
heart of Chicago, destroying almost the entire business 
portion, and hundreds of lives had been lost. For- 
tunately Mr. Allen had been in a district not reached 
by the flames, and while he had been delayed b} T the 



32 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

catastrophe, would be able to reach home the follow- 
ing week. 

Impatient to be back at home with the good news, 
Rob resolved to start upon the return trip that night, 
walking ten miles or so, then resting until daybreak. 
Thoroughly wearied with his long tramp, he slept 
soundly when he finally lay down upon his bed of pine 
"needles." When he awoke it was with a start and 
sense of discomfort. His watch said it was morning, 
past six o'clock, although it was still dark. The air 
was close and heavy and carried a pungent odor that 
made breathing somewhat difficult. Rob sprang to his 
feet, and munching his bread and bacon as he went, 
resumed his journey. Before he had traveled an hour, 
the tops of the tall pines had begun to moan in a rising 
wind, and a cloud of smoke was settling down like a 
pall from the sky. With a clutch of fear at his heart, 
Rob realized the meaning — the forest fire had reached 
that section; his hope of safety lay in reaching the 
more open country about his home before the storm 
of fire should be upon him. 

■ Breaking into a "long run," an exercise which the 
boys had practiced until they were able to keep up the 
gait for two or three miles, Rob began the race. The 
smoke grew more dense; tears ran down the boy's face 
from smarting eyes. Choking for air, he bound his 
handkerchief about his mouth and nose, and ran on. 
Again and again he would stumble and fall over tree- 
roots rising in the way. Finally he noticed that close 
to the ground there was a current of cool, pure air, 



THE FOREST FIRE 33 

and so, lying flat on his face, he would fill his lungs, 
then rise and dash forward as far as he could, and 
fall to the earth to breathe again. 

While he lay gasping for breath after a long run, 
there came to his ears the sound as of a waterfall in 
the distance. The volume of sound increased until it 
became a roar, and all at once the pall of darkness 
broke out into a glare of blinding flame — the tempest 
of fire was upon him. The very air seemed to be on 
fire. A great pine would start into a blaze, and an 
ascending current of air snatching a limb or a burning 
bunch of cones would hurl it on into the top of another 
tree an hundred feet away. The first rush was quickly 
over. The resinous foliage of the green trees was soon 
licked up by the flames, but the awful destruction 
would continue for days. 

The bed of dry "needles," fallen leaves of [he yearly 
shedding of the pines, made excellent kindling to light 
the great trunks of the forest giants, which, catching, 
would burn until consumed, or until extinguished by 
a heavy rain. Fortunately the latter usually occurred. 
Whether or not it be founded in fact, there is a saying 
widely accepted that every large battle and great fire 
is followed by a hard rainstorm. Thus it is that the 
greatest damage in forest fires is to the young timber, 
the small trees growing close together being left bare 
and dead, if not consumed at once. Among the big 
trees there is little underbrush, and while the foliage 
and small limbs are destroyed, and great holes some- 
times burned in the trunks near the ground, the trees 



34 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

recover, and put forth their green again the following 
spring. 

All sense seemed to leave Rob except the one to keep 
going. No longer could he stand to run more than 
a few feet in the fierce heat. His hair was singed; the 
thick soles of his boots were cracked and shriveled up 
from stepping upon embers and burning limbs. His 
woolen jacket and trousers were a protection to his 
body, but when a dead tree, all ablaze, fell with a 
crash just in front of him, he felt that he could 
go no further. Almost without volition he crawled 
off to one side — and for a time lost consciousness. Soon 
he came to himself and realized that his blistered face 
and hands were deliriously cool, and that he was 
breathing easily. He had fortunately crawled into a 
little "swale," one of the small, moss-covered depres- 
sions that mark the edge of the big forest, as it opens 
out into the small timber and marshes of the ancient 
lake. The little basin, filled with moss, was like a great 
sponge from which not all the moisture had been 
wrung by the fierce heat of the summer, and it meant 
life to Rob as he buried his face in it. 

Danger to the lad from falling trees and flying fire- 
brands was not over, but he was not far from the open 
prairie, now a blackened waste, and with heart- anx- 
ious for the loved ones at home, he pushed on. 

The fire had, after all, not been connected with the 
great fire of the northeast, but was local in extent, 
covering some ten miles from north to south, and per- 
haps fifteen from its eastern starting point, to where 



THE FOREST FIRE 35 

it was stopped by the deep marshes on the west. The 
humble home on the Necedah river was unharmed, and 
great was the rejoicing that night as Rob returned 
alive, with the letter, although it was many weeks be- 
fore the lad fully recovered from the experiences of 
that fearful trip through the burning forest. 



CHAPTEE V 

THE FIRST DEER HUNT 

The question of food supply is always an important 
one where there is a family of growing children, but 
especially is it so in a wilderness of forest, far from 
stores and the supplies of towns and cities. The ques- 
tion is not so much one of variety as of quantity, as 
the vigorous out-of-door life of the pioneer gives an 
appetite which dainties prepared by a famous chef 
would not tempt from the generous dish of "pork and 
beans," or roast beef and potatoes. 

This question became a pressing one to our settlers 
in the "old lake bottom," by the Necedah river. The 
severe summer drouth had* cut short the yield of their 
potato crop upon which high hopes had rested at the 
spring planting, and a great horde of migrating squir- 
rels had harvested their little field of corn before it 
had ripened. 

Euffled grouse, or "prairie-chickens," as they were 
called, were abundant up to the time of the big fires 
in August. Indeed, from the first of July the young 
birds had furnished a supply of meat for the table 
more delicious than the boys of the family had ever 
known. 

The old sow, which they had succeeded in bring- 
36 



THE FIRST DEEK HUNT 37 

ing through the winter, had been turned out into 
the hardwood timber along the river to care for herself, 
and Uncle Sam Thompson reported having seen her 
on Big Bend with a fine litter of pigs, which would 
thrive upon the "mast," the nuts of oak and hickory, 
and furnish good "hams" and "sides" by Christmas. 

The fire which had come down out of the big woods 
during the summer, burning over the low prairies and 
shallow marches had been followed by a week of heavy 
rains, and what had been a wide stretch of blackened 
waste was soon transformed by the springing grass 
into an emerald garden. While light frosts occasion- 
ally nipped the top, through September, the grass grew 
rapidly and luxuriantly, and Mr. Allen's few cows 
and yoke of young oxen were rolling with fat by 
October. 

Families and herds of deer might be seen any day 
a mile west from the Allen home, though they ap- 
peared to be more difficult of approach as the cold 
season came on. As many as twenty in one herd were 
counted by the boys at one time. While they had be- 
come expert with their guns in securing small game, 
neither Rob nor Ed had as yet tried their marksman- 
ship upon the larger animals. 

There was, at that time, no "closed" season for its 
protection, but the settlers, as a rule, never killed game 
wantonly, nor for "sport." No deer were shot in the 
summer, especially while the young needed the care 
of its mother. But when the sharp, frosty nights of 
October came, the hunter's appetite was allowed to 



38 BOYS OF THIS OLD SEA BED 

match the woods-wisdom and cunning of the "antlered 
lords of the forest." 

The moonlight nights of October is the mating sea- 
son, and then the hunters know that the deer keep to 
regular paths or "runs" through the forest, Rough 
platforms of boughs were built upon the low branches 
of some tree at the crossing or intersection of two runs, 
and upon this the hunter will take his seat and watch, 
while a comrade starts off, and making a wide detour, 
starts a "drive" in the direction of the ambush. The 
watcher in the tree must be alert, quick of sight, and 
sure of aim, for the buck will come bounding toward 
him with prodigious leaps and be gone again in a 
flash. 

Uncle Sam had promised his nephew Dauphin and 
the Allen boys a deer hunt on the night of the full 
moon in October, but Rob Allen was impatient, "You 
needn't be in such a hurry," said Dauphin. "You 
couldn't hit a deer the first time, anyway. One always 
has "buck-fever" the first time." 

"You'll see," boasted Rob; "I'll show you that the 
laugh will not be on me." 

If Rob had been wise, he would have awaited the 
time set, and acted under the direction of the experi- 
enced hunter, but the taunt of Dauphin spurred him on 
to prove his prowess. So the next afternoon he slipped 
off with his gun in the direction of Round Slough. 
Approaching the water from the west he came to a 
swale where some long-past tornado from the south- 
west had laid the aspen trees in great windrows. The 



THE FIBST DEEB HUNT 39 

breeze from the east brought to Rob the quacking of 
ducks over in the slough, and as he slowly and as 
quietly as possible, clambered over the fallen tree 
trunks, he thought, "Well, I can change the buckshot 
in my gun to a cartridge of 4's, and take home a mess 
of mallards anyway." 

Then, from the further side of the very windrow 
of tree trunks upon which he was clambering, there 
sprang high into the air, and in a mighty bound clear- 
ing the last barrier of trees, a splendid, eight-pronged 
buck. For a second Rob stood in open-mouthed won- 
der, then seizing his gun in one hand he started on a 
run after the deer, yelling at the top of his voice. 
There was a flash of the great antlers above the under- 
brush of the slough, and the deer was gone. 

"Well," said Rob, coming to himself, "I had it, 
didn't I ! So that is 'buck fever.' Why I never once 
thought of my gun. The boys will have their laugh 
now." 

Coming out into the open forest, the lad struck 
into a deer "run" and started for home. He had not 
gone far when he caught the sound of animals running, 
coming toward him. Quickly he dodged behind a big 
pine. In a moment two deer burst into sight, the sec- 
ond one carrying a pair of branching antlers. Rob 
could feel his heart beating like a trip-hammer, but 
he drew a bead upon the antlers, and, just as they 
passed, fired. The buck dropped, rolled over and over, 
then lay still. 

"Hurrah!" shouted Rob. "I have you now;" and, 



40 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

droping his gun, he ran quickly, drawing his hunting 
knife. The deer was a four-year-old, and would porb- 
ably weigh a hundred and fifty pounds. The boy 
put one foot upon the neck of the fallen animal, when 
a startling thing occurred. As though the solid earth 
had risen beneath his feet, Rob felt himself lifted and 
flung over upon his back on the pine needles as if he 
had been the merest trifle, and in great leaps and 
bounds he saw his deer disappearing in the distance. 

"Of all things," gasped the lad, "this beats me. 
If I caught the 'buck fever' the first time, I must now 
have reached the delirious stage. Who ever heard of 
a dead deer acting in that way !" 

It was now growing dark, and impossible to follow 
the trail of the deer even had it been seriously wound- 
ed, so the lad struck out for home. He had gone per- 
haps half a mile, and was approaching the open prairie 
not far from his home, when, in a small swale, to the 
left of the trail, he heard a snort, then a quick, im- 
patient pawing of a hoof like a challenge. Dropping 
to his knees he waited, and in a moment discovered the 
gleam of two eyes shining through the darkness. Care- 
fully raising his gun, he fired. Springing straight 
up into the air, the animal came down with a thud. 
This time Rob did not throw clown his gun, but made 
ready with the second barrel in case of need, as he 
cautiously went up to where his quarry lay. But the 
charge had gone true, and a fine, fat yearling, a "spike" 
buck — his first deer — was a prize to the young hunter 



THE FIEST DEER HUNT 41 

The boy's heart beat proudly as he shouldered his 
game and bore it home. 

With well assumed modesty Bob accepted the praises 
of Dauphin and Ed, but being an honest lad he finally 
confessed to his attack of "buck fever," and then related 
the astonishing action of the second deer. 

But Uncle Sam explained it. "You 'creased' him," 
said he. "Your aim was too high, but one of the buck- 
shot grazed the top of his head and stunned him for 
the time. Probably he was not at all seriously hurt. 
I saw that trick played many a time when we were 
crossing the plains to California in an early day. 
When we were on the llanos of northern and western 
Texas bands of wild horses would occasionally circle 
about our wagon train. None of the saddle horses 
were anything like a match for the wild fellows in 
speed, but the plainsmen had a way of occasionally 
capturing one of the band. Where the lay of the ground 
would permit, a picked man would be detailed to creep 
toward the herd until within shooting distance. Se- 
lecting the horse that pleased his fancy, he would 
shoot, not to kill or wound the animal, but to just graze 
the skin along the top of its head. The trick required 
the highest skill in marksmanship, but many horses 
were secured in that way, as the force of the bullet 
would stun the animal for a time and it could be 
secured with ropes, and finally be broken to service." 



CHAPTEE VI 
THE INDIAN WAR DANCE 

When the Jesuit Fathers, those early French path- 
finders for civilization in the central region of the 
American continent, pushed down from Canada over 
the lakes and by the rivers into the great forest that 
stretched from the inland sea to the great river, they 
found a people warlike, indeed, yet hospitable and 
kindly; reserved and shy, yet open-hearted and unsus- 
picious; uncivilized according to Old World stand- 
ards, yet wise in the great secrets of nature; poor as 
to stores of gold, yet rich in the abundance of all that 
went to make for their simple necessities, their com- 
fort and their pleasure. So entranced were the French- 
men with the natural, free, and abundant life of these 
red men of the forest, and with their noble physical 
bearing, and untutored courtesy and dignity, that many 
then and there forever forsook the land and ways of 
their fathers, and bequeathed the names of France to 
dusky families, and to streams and lakes and heights. 

The Great Sioux Nation, not a people, but a fed- 
eration of peoples, lay principally to the west — the 
land of Hiawatha — in what was to become Minnesota, 
and extended well across the barren plains of Dakota 
to the Missouri river where possession was disputed 

by the Blackfeet. The eastern border of the nation 

42 



THE INDIAN WAR DANCE 43 

rested upon the shores of the two fresh water seas. 
The central portion of the great forest was the home. 
principally, of two tribes: to the eastward the Men- 
oninees, and to the westward the Winnebagoes. To 
the south was the land of the Sac and Fox. 

From the standpoint of the red man, this land be- 
tween the Mississippi river and the great lakes could 
only be equalled by that Happy Hunting Ground on 
the Isle of the Blest, the home of Manitou, the Great 
Spirit. Little lakes and running streams, teeming 
with fish, abounded. Wild fowl and the smaller fm- 
and game-animals were ever within reach of even the 
arrows of the unclad children. Blackberries grew in 
riotous profusion in sandy openings of the forest; 
while blueberries in the summer and huckleberries in 
early fall gave a welcome change of diet, Food was 
plentiful. And as for wild creatures whose taking 
would test the sagacity and valor of the wisest and 
bravest, were there not the bear, the panther, and the 
lynx? While upon the plains west of the great river 
the neighbors depended upon the bison for winter's 
meat, for tent covering and a large portion of their 
clothing, the great forest afforded the Winnebagoes, 
for these necessities, the flesh and skins of deer. 

It is true that such a bountiful nature bred an 
improvident disposition, and times of lack and suffer- 
ing had come to them in the past, but so rare were they, 
that the tales of such disasters became great epics to 
be rehearsed and chanted about winter fires. 

To this forest had come the welcomed priests and 



44 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

their friendly companions — but that was indeed the 
beginning of a new order; where one white man puts 
a foot, there other white men spring up. It would 
seem strange that from the time of pathfinder Pierre 
Marquette to the time of pathfinder John C. Fremont, 
the simple, free, self-sufficient lives of these forest 
tribes should have been so little disturbed, and yet 
there was a reason. From the Atlantic coast the white 
man's civilization had spread westward, ever west- 
ward, opening up farms, building cities — always 
crowding before it the red man, and appropriating 
his lands. After the bloody days of the establishing 
of New England upon the eastern shore, there came, 
later, Tecumseh, with his vain hope of stemming the 
tide of invasion. Then still later, in the newer west, 
Black Hawk, with impassioned words strove to turn 
the faces of his warriors toward the coming horde. 
But steadily, surely, the white man pressed forward. 
As a stream is turned aside by a barrier, to seek some 
other and easier course, so was this human stream of 
immigration and occupation for a long time held back 
by the vast forests of Wisconsin. As yet there was no 
lack of fertile prairies ready for the plow, and so the 
tide swept below and on around the home of the Win- 
nebagoes. It crept up into Minnesota, and, still west- 
ward, planted its outpost at beautiful little lake Che- 
teck, the head of the Des Moines river. Here the red 
men of the plains called a halt. From Cheteck to 
New Ulm they wrote their fearful warning in blood 
and fire. The answer of the whites was quick and no 



THE INDIAN WAR DANCE 45 

less terrible, and so relentless, that many of these plains 
folk took refuge among their neighbors in the Win- 
nebago forests. For three hundred years the history 
of the Winnebagoes and Menomniees had been one of 
almost unbroken peace with the whites. While there 
had been settlements made here and there, so far there 
had been no serious crowding. There was yet room and 
food in plenty; and abundance of food predisposes to 
peace. 

But the white dwellers of the cities and on the 
plains farms increased; always new homes were to be 
built; the small forests were soon exhausted, and the 
lumber scout came on to view the great woods of Wis- 
consin. 

In early days when white men desired the skin 
of otter or beaver possessed by an Indian he might give 
the red man a bit of copper wire as barter, but he took 
the skin. So it was when the great forests of pine and 
oak and ash became desirable to the white man, he did 
not steal outright the home of the red man; he made 
some sort of present in return, as he took the land. 
To the Winnebagoes was allotted, as exchange for their 
claim to the forests which had sheltered and nourished 
the generations of their ancestors, a treeless, waterless 
tract in the far south, in what had been called the 
"Indian Territory." To be sure they had had nothing 
to say as to the trade, and entertained no notion of 
going to their new "home," but the white man had ap- 
peased his conscience, and the red man would now be 
considered an intruder in the forest. 



46 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

When Rob and Ed Allen came with their father's 
family to live upon the Necedah river there was a 
band of perhaps an hundred Wimiebagoes making 
their lodge in Big Bend. The chief, following cus- 
tom, had taken a "white" name, after that of a man 
who had befriended him, and was known, not as Jim 
Miner, but as "Miner Jim." Miner Jim's wife was the 
daughter of a Menominee chief, and was called by the 
whites "Menominee Mary." Mary was every inch a 
red princess. Magnificently proportioned, and of na- 
ture imperious, her word held at least equal authority 
in the tribe with the chief. While it was customary 
among the Indians for a brave, and especially a chief, 
to have several wives, Menominee Mary reigned the 
sole spouse in the tepee of the Winnebago chief. Their 
eldest child was Ka-li-cha-goo-gah, and, according to 
Indian custom, which traces descent through mother 
to son, instead of through father to son, the lad was 
considered a Menominee. 

Between this Indian lad of about their own age, and 
the Allen boys, and their neighbor, Dauphin Thomp- 
son, there sprang up a warm friendship. The white 
boys and the red one were together upon many a hunt- 
ing trip, and in the berry season gathered their bass- 
wood-bark baskets full of fruit side by side. Buck- 
skin moccasins ornamented with elaborate beadwork 
designs by Menominee Mary, broad, ash-bowed snow 
shoes for winter hunting, and a soft, lynx-fur robe at- 
tested the love the son of the chief bore his white com- 



THE INDIAN "WAR DANCE 



47 



rades. And in return his delight was great in the 
gift of a score of steel traps with which he would 
gather in a harvest of muskrat pelts from the lodges 
on Iron Creek marsh during the months of deep snow. 
Living as members of this band were two young peo- 
ple, a boy nearly grown, whose red, stubby hair, and 
smiling, freckled face was, as Dauphin declared, 'a 
"plain map of Ireland." The other was a girl ap- 
parently twelve or thirteen years of age, with wavy, 
dark brown hair, and eyes as blue as a summer sky. 
Whether these young folk were able to speak English, 
the white boys could not tell. They never answered 
a question put to them in that tongue, and the older 
Indians seemed adverse to having them associate with 
the white lads. Uncle Sam Thompson told the boys 
the story of the Minnesota massacre and gave, as his 
suspicion, that some of this band of the Big Bend were 
really refugees from the Sioux who were in that up- 
rising, and that the two evidently white children were 
really captives taken at that time. 

During the year of which I write the boys had been 
freely received at the Indian camp, and, what few 
whites had been permitted to behold, had been al- 
lowed to attend their stated occasions of worship, the 
ceremonial dances. The Fish Dance in the spring, the 
Green Corn Dance in the summer, the Harvest Dance 
and the Hunting Moon Dance in the autumn, were of 
strange interest to these town-bred boys. 

"I tell you what I'd like to see," said Ed Allen, 
as they were going home from one of these, to them, 



48 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

grotesque performances, "I would like to go to a sure- 
enough scalp dance, or war dance." 

"You can be thankful, young man," replied Dau- 
phin, "that you are permitted to see what you have 
seen without having those other dances added. White 
men who have been spectators have seldom found either 
of these performances pleasant, if indeed they had 
any opportunity to tell about them afterward." 

As the winter season approached, there seemed to 
come a change in the attitude of the Indians toward 
their visitors. Kalichigoogah was often silent and 
moody with his friends, and the older Indians, while 
never rude, offered little welcome to the whites. 

There had been a series of more or less disastrous 
fires here and there in the great forest, and the lum- 
bermen who were busily gaining title to these lands 
laid the blame upon the Indians. The representation 
they made to the government at Washington was that 
the Indians, if not revengefully guilty, were at least 
carelessly so, as forest fires would be sure to be kindled 
from their campfires. Moreover, they declared, the 
Winnebagoes were trespassers in the forest; the gov- 
ernment had allotted them a reservation in the Indian 
Territory, and they called upon the authorities at 
Washington to see that these Indians were "returned" 
to the place where they belonged. 

To one acquainted with the manner of Indian life, 
the charge that forest fires were set from the camp- 
fires of the red men, would be ridiculous. Such fires 
might, and doubtless did, start from the campfires of 



THE INDIAN WAR DANCE 49 

white hunters and timber scouts, but never from a 
fire built by an Indian. In the first place, the forest 
was the very life of the Indian. He understood that 
any harm to the big woods meant harm to himself. 
A white man would build his fire by a log or dry 
stump, and pile on plenty of sticks and limbs. He 
would have a big fire — and go away leaving it burn- 
ing careless of consequences. On the contrary, the 
Indian, who for generations had lived in the possible 
presence of a keen-eyed enemy, was very cautious about 
letting a smoke rise above the tree tops to call atteption 
to himself. Consequently his fire was small — just a 
few little sticks, or pieces of bark brought together, 
and always the fire extinguished, and generally the 
very ashes concealed, as the hunter or warrior left 
his camping place. 

Friends among the whites had sent word to the 
Winnebagoes of the purpose of the Great Father at 
Washington to take them from the land of their fathers 
and hold them upon the bleak prairies where there was 
no forest shade, no cool lakes, no sparkling rivers, but 
fierce winds, and dust clouds, and maurauding Com- 
anches. 

The red man is called cruel and treacherous, but 
to the Winnebagoes the white race, at this time, seemed 
the incarnation of all that is unjust and hateful. It 
is small wonder that Miner Jim's band grew moody, 
and distant in their attitude toward their former 
friends. 

Spring came in somewhat late. Up until April the 



50 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

river was still floating large cakes of ice. In that 
latitude the corn-growing season is none too long at 
best, and the Allen boys would have to make every 
hour count when the land became dry enough to work. 

"Rob," said Ed, one bright, warm day, "I believe 
that upper meadow could be plowed now, if we had an- 
other yoke of steers to hitch to our 14-inch plow. I'm 
going over to see if Dauph won't hitch in with his 
steers for a few days and work time about." 

It was late in the evening before Ed and Dauphin 
finished their arrangements for the partnership plow- 
ing, and when Ed reached Big Bend, twilight had 
fallen over the prairie; within the wood it was al- 
ready dark. The long-drawn cry of a grey timber 
wolf came sharp and clear to the boy on the frosty 
spring air. In a moment it was answered by the 
house dogs of the distant farm. A Great Horned Owi, 
lingering late before departing for his summer home 
in the arctic region, boomed a deep-voiced "Hoo-hoo- 
ah" as it arose like a ghost all in white from a limb 
above the path. Then there came to the ears of the 
boy other sounds, so strange and confusing that he 
was compelled to stop and listen. Evidently the 
noise was over in Big Bend. The Indian camp! Bu. 
what was going on? The Indians are not accustomed 
to much noise making. Could it be that some vicious 
white man, as had occurred at other places, had brought 
in the forbidden "fire water" to inflame and debauch 
the red men for their own evil ends? 

For himself, the lad did not think of being afraid. 



THE INDIAN WAG DANCE 51 

These Indians were his friends. If wicked white men 
were there, seeking them harm, his father would see 
that the} 7 received merited punishment. It was not yet 
late; he could easily reach home in time. He would 
go over to the Indian camp and learn the cause of the 
commotion. 

As he drew near, a lean cur with hair standing like 
bristles upon its back, made a dash at his heels, but 
slunk away as it took the familiar scent of one it had 
learned was a friend. As the lad came within fifty 
yards of the place he had a view of what was going 
on. A large space to the east of the camp had been 
cleared, and around this space, in a circle, were squat- 
ted the women and children of the tribe. Small fires, 
here and there, but partially lit up the camp, and threw 
wierd shadows, now upon the surrounding forest, now 
upon the cleared ground. All about in the circle were" 
different ones beating upon tom-toms, small drums 
fashioned by stretching buckskin tightly over ash 
hoops. They were chanting some song in a high- 
pitched, monotonous, though not unmusical tone, and 
in perfect cadence. Ed's gaze lifted from the mu- 
sicians to the top of the pole planted in the center of 
the circle, from which dangled — what was it ? Hair ! 
Yes, unmistakably, a number of dried human scalps. 
A cold hand seemed to grip the spine of the boy, and 
each individual hair of his head seemed trying to pull 
itself out by the roots. He sank to the thick bed of 
pine needles on the ground-, thankful that he had been 
standing in the shadow of a great tree. 



52 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

It was well that he was hidden, for just then be- 
gan the strangest ceremony he had ever witnessed, 
and which few, indeed, of the white race had ever 
beheld and come away to describe. The Indians sprang 
into the circle, stark naked save for the narrow loin- 
cloth, their bodies painted black, with broad red and 
yellow stripes, their faces "decorated" with hideous 
lines and patches of color. Those who had been war- 
riors, wore upon their heads the bonnet or headdress 
ornamented with eagle feathers, each feather marking 
some great deed, which the voice of the old 
men of the tribe had decided to be a claim to honor. 
The younger Indians had each one or two, or pos- 
sibly three feathers fastened in the thick braids of 
black hair which hung down their backs. As they 
sj >iang into the circle, it could be seen that all car- 
ried some kind of weapon. With bodies swaying and 
gesticulating, they went around and around, one fol- 
lowing the other, in perfect time with the beating of 
the tom-toms and the shrill singing of the women. At 
first all seemed to be a confusion of gesture, but as the 
dance proceeded the boy on the ground saw that each 
Indian was acting out in pantomine a story, and that 
story was the pursuit, capture, and death of an enemy. 
Crouching, crawling, springing, running, aiming with 
gun, striking with tomahawk, scalping with the knife, 
and leaping away in triumph, all were unmistakably 
portrayed by the redmen dancing in perfect rythm 
about the scalp-decked pole. 

"It is a war dance," gasped the watching lad. 



THE INDIAN WAR DANCE 53 

"They're getting ready to go on the war path. I must 
get home and warn the folks — if I can." 

Slowly he began to crawl backward into the deeper 
shadows, away from that fearful place. What if the 
dogs should come upon him and bark, even in sport? 
What if quick ears should hear the snap of a broken 
twig? Would they not think him a spy ? Would they 
take him along as a prisoner; or would they build a 
fire about that pole in the center and tie him there 
after having added his scalp to their collection? 

It seemed that he was hours in crawling backward 
out of the light of those fires, away from the horrid 
din, away from the all too suggestive dancing of those 
hideous, naked figures. All at once he found himself 
at the river bank. Creeping down, he quietly let him- 
self into the cold water, and clutching grass and root, 
and overhanging branch, he cautiously, and with pain- 
ful slowness, made his way down stream. He was 
numb with the fright of his experience, as well as the 
chill of the water, and scarcely able to walk, when he 
reached the opening of the forest, half a mile from the 
Indian camp. As he was about entering the path lead- 
ing to his home, he stumbled and nearly fell over some- 
one lying prostrate on the dead leaves. 

"It is some watcher. I'm lost," flashed through the 
mind of the boy. But a familiar movement of an arm 
of the stretched-out figure caught his attention. Could 
it be? it was Kalichigoogah. For some moments the 
Indian boy would answer no question of his white 
friend, but finally he burst out in a sob. 



54 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

"Me no let dance. Me no let fight. Them say no 
Winnebago, me Menominee." 

The two white families made such preparations as 
were possible to withstand an attack, but no harm ap- 
peared during the night, and a cautious invesitgation 
the following day showed the camp deserted; the 
women and children as well as the war party gone. 

Two days later the cause for the strange action 
of the Indians was learned, when Captain Hunt, in 
charge of a squad of regular soldiers, appeared at the 
home of Mr. Thompson. The Indians had been warned 
that the petition of the lumbermen had been granted 
by the authorities at Washington, and that they were 
to be forcibly removed from their forest home to the 
inhospitable plains of the South. They did not seek 
war with their brothers, but they would not tamely 
give up their home. They would take the women and 
children to the friendly care of the Menomines, and 
then, if the} 7 must, they would die as befitted a brave 
race. 

The soldiers easily caught the trail of the fleeing 
band, and on the third da} 7 after the war dance, the 
entire band, women, children, and warriors, were sur- 
rounded, captured, and taken away to the Indian Ter- 
ritory. 

I may say that the stay of these Winnebagoes upon 
their reservation was not long. One after another, 
stragglers from the band came back, until before the 
close of the second season the majority were again 
living in their beloved forest home. 



CHAPTER VII 
THE FLOATING BOG 

In settling up some business affairs, Mr. Allen had 
come into possession of a tract of two thousand acres 
of swamp land lying toward the western side of the 
bed of the ancient sea. At the time of which I write 
there were vast tracts of such supposedly valueless land 
owned by the state, and which could be purchased for 
ten dollars per "forty," twenty-five cents per acre. 
Timber scouts had ranged over it, and selecting the 
forties upon which there were sand knolls covered with 
a goodly amount of pine timber, the land would be 
purchased by their employers, the lumber companies, 
to be cut over at their convenience. 

The low-lying prairies, flooded in the spring season, 
and the lower marshes covered with water much of the 
year, were thought to be not worth the twenty-five 
cents per acre asked by the state. In later j^ears, by 
a system of drainage, and through scientific farming, 
much of this land became highly productive and val- 
uable. 

In some of the deeper marshes, where there had 
been an abundance of water for several years, cran- 
berry vines had covered the surface of the moss and 
yielded astonishing crops of mottled green and red 
berries. This was the character of much of the land 

55 



56 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

of which Mr. Allen found himself possessed. A gran- 
ite rock rising with nearly perpendicular sides over 
three hundred feet above the level surface of the coun- 
try, gave the name of North Bluff marsh to the lo- 
cality, as distinguished from the country about a sim- 
ilar bluff some ten miles to the south. 

After considerable persuasion on the part of the 
boys, Mr. Allen had leased this cranberry marsh to 
Rob and Ed, and their chum Dauphin. The boys al- 
ready had a good start on the fund they were gathering 
for a planned year in college, and if they should be 
successful in getting the berries from the North Bluff 
to market, it would bring them nearer to the desired 
goal. 

While the cranberry, as it is picked from the vine, 
is as firm and meaty as a little apple, it bruises easily 
in handling, and so requires great care in getting to 
market. The boys had purposed using two-bushel 
grain sacks for the transportation of the crop, but 
Mr. Allen wisely persuaded them to make a prelim- 
inary trip to Lisbon and secure light ash barrels to 
take with them to the marsh and so prevent much 
loss from bruised and damaged berries. 

On the twentieth of August the boys had their out- 
fits assembled : two yokes of oxen hitched to two broad- 
tired wagons, upon which were long racks each con- 
taining thirty empty barrels. With these they carried 
a tent, cooking utensils, supplies of bacon, flour, brown 
sugar, matches, axes, guns, and ammunition, sacks to 
carry the berries from the marsh to dry land, and not 



THE FLOATING BOG 57 

least in importance, three cranberry rakes. Of these 
latter Uncle Sam Thompson had made one for each 
of the boys. A slab of ash was taken and fingers about 
ten inches long sawn and whittled down smooth in 
one end. Sides and back were put to this, with a han- 
dle on top and back. With these "rakes" the boys 
would literally scoop up the berries from the vines. 

The trip of fifty miles to the marsh was, in itself, 
a great undertaking. There were no roads; logs and 
tree roots had to be chopped out of the way, and over- 
hanging limbs cleared from before the stacks of bar- 
rels. More serious were the occasional deep bogs en- 
countered, through which the oxen, though accustomed 
to wallowing in mud, were unable to pull the wagons. 
Over these the boys were obliged to build a "cordu- 
roy," sometimes for several rods. To one accustomed 
to a boulevard or even a macadam pike, the corduroy 
would seem an impossibility as a means of travel, but 
pioneers are frequently required to accomplish the 
seemingly impossible. Small trees are felled and cut 
into lengths suitable to the width of the wagon, and 
these placed side by side until the way across has been 
covered. When the marsh is unusually deep and soft, 
a second layer of smaller logs is placed upon the first. 
It is not a good road, nor eas}^ to ride over, but it can 
be crossed, and that is the main thing. 

Not alone were the bad roads, or lack of roads, a 
cause of distress to the boys and their teams; mos- 
quitoes in clouds attacked them day and night. Fre- 
quently they were compelled to make "smudges" of 



58 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

fire covered with green grass, so that in the smoke they 
might be able to eat their meals in some sort of com- 
fort. At night the oxen were likewise protected from 
the attacks of the pestiverous insects. Much annoy- 
ance and no little suffering were caused by a spotted 
fly, called from its markings, the "deer fly," which 
persistently crawled up into their hair and under 
their clothing, its bite always drawing blood. 

The boys averaged not quite five miles a day on 
the trip, and it was the last day of August before the 
camping place at the foot of North Bluff was reached. 

The first day of their arrival was spent in arranging 
camp; putting up the tent, digging the shallow well 
in the sand at the marsh's edge, and building moss-lined 
pole-pens in which to store the berries as they should 
be picked. Cranberry harvest and the arrival of frost 
are usually too close together to allow any time to be 
taken away from the one occupation of picking. So 
the boys would sort over and clean the berries and then 
barrel them after the frosts had come. 

The bog was a wonder to the Allen boys. Around 
the edge, for perhaps ten rods out into the marsh, were 
growing tamarack trees, from little switches a dozen 
feet high that could be easily pulled up by hand, to 
older ones six inches in diameter, and thirty feet in 
height. Further out, beyond the line of tamaracks, the 
bog looked much like a prairie covered with moss, 
with here and there a sandy mound upon which black- 
berry vines, huckleberry bushes, and a few scattering 
pine trees were growing. 



THE FLOATING BOG 



59 



When they had walked out into the marsh several 
rods over shoe-top deep in the moss, Dauphin called 
out, "Stand still a minute, beys, I want to show you 
something," and he began to spring up and down in 
rythmic motion. In a few moments, at first slightly, 
then in increasing motion the trees began to sway and 
bend, and the surface of the bog, for many rods around, 
could be seen in regular, wave-like motion, trees and 
all rising and falling, bending and rolling as if on 
the bosom of a rolling sea. 

"It is like this," said Dauphin in answer to the 
boys' astonished questioning, "this marsh is really 
a lake over which the moss has grown until it is now 
completely covered. Here, near the edge where it start- 
ed in to grow and spread over the water, the old moss 
falling down each year has been succeeded by the new 
growing up, and so for ages, until there is now quite a 
solid covering at the surface, enough even to support 
the trees, but, as you see, it is only after all a floating- 
cover to a lake. Not all over is the moss so thick as 
here, and there are places dangerous to try to walk 
over. One might easily drop through. Then—" 

"Don't, Dauph," exclaimed Ed; "I don't want to 
think of anything so horrible." 

"You had best pick your steps, then," replied Dau- 
phin; "if you attempt to cross the bog, or you may 
find something worse than hearing about it." 

"How far is it to the bottom?" asked Rob. 

"We can soon see,"' replied Dauphin. Cutting 
down a slender dead tamarack he thrust it down 



60 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

through the moss until it rested upon the solid sand. 
"Twelve feet!" exclaimed the boys as the pole was 
drawn up and measured. Further out from the edge 
they took a measurement of sixteen feet from the 
mossy surface to the bottom. 

' There was a fine crop of cranberries on the vines, 
and the boys were busy from early morning until late 
at night with their rakes. The unaccustomed stooping 
all day was backbreaking work, and it w T as not at all 
pleasant to stand in cold water wet to the knees, but 
the two-bushel sack of berries each boy was able to 
carry to camp every half day made the labor endur- 
able. 

As the best patches near the camp were soon raked 
over, the boys would take turns searching for new 
places. On one of these excursions Rob had an ad- 
venture which came near to a tragedy for him, but 
which led to happy termination. In a cove of perhaps 
an acre, jutting up into one of the pine islands, lying 
nearly a mile out into the bog, Rob found a patch of 
beautiful "bell" berries, and over near the edge it ap- 
peared as though the vines had been recently dis- 
turbed. Closely scanning the land nearby he at length 
discovered a mound of freshly-pulled moss over which 
pine boughs had been carelessly strewn, as if in at- 
tempt to hide something. His curiosity was of course 
aroused, and digging away the moss he came upon 
several sacks filled with berries. Evidently somebody 
had been there at work. He determined to carry one 
of the sacks of berries to camp with him, and then get 



THE FLOATING BOG 61 

the boys and hunt for the trespassers. Instead of re- 
turning in the way he came, Rob struck out straight 
across the bog, his mind full of excited imaginings 
about his find. Suddenly he found himself dropping, 
and like a flash he realized that he had come upon a 
thin place in the bog, and was falling through to the 
cold, dark depths of the lake beneath. Instinctively 
he had thrown himself forward, with arms out- 
stretched, his hands clutching the moss. This stayed 
him for a moment, but the heavy sack of berries was 
upon him, forcing his head and shoulders down into 
the moss. He could feel himself sinking; the water 
seemed to be rising about his face. He thought of how 
the boys would miss him, of their fruitless search, for 
the moss would soon close over him leaving no mark 
to show where he had gone down. Then the thought 
came that he must not die; that he might work back- 
ward from under the sack and get free. It was a des- 
perate struggle, and before he succeeded his face was 
under water, and his strength nearly exhausted for 
lack of breath. But at last he was free, and throwing 
his arms up over the sack he raised his head, regained 
his breath, and rested. Slowly he pulled his body up, 
and using the sinking sack for a foothold, he threw 
himself sprawling upon the track over which he had 
come. He crawled in the moss for several yards be- 
fore he dared to rise to his feet and resume his journey 
to the camp. 

"I should like to see that lake drained," said Dau- 
phin, as Rob told of his narrow escape. "Think of the 



62 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

different kinds of animals that have probably left 
their bones on the sands of that lake bottom in the ages 
past." 

"Well, I'm glad that your future scientist will not 
have the pleasure of classifying my bones, anyway," 
replied Bob. 

Next day the boys found the trespassers to be a 
band of Winnebago Indians, and they were able to 
make satisfactory arrangements whereby the Indians 
stayed and helped them harvest the crop of berries, 
which the boys finally got safely to market. 



CHAPTEE VIII 

THE WAYSIDE TAVERN 

"Uncle Henry," said Ed, as the boys were enjoying 
themselves in the pleasant living room of the Thomp- 
son home, "what kind of a mound is that in front of 
Slater's tavern? It looks like a grave right there in 
front of the house. I noticed it when I was going to 
Lisbon after cranberry barrels last fall, and I started 
to ask Mr. Slater who had been buried there, but one 
of the teamsters stopping there for dinner with me 
looked scared, and hushed me up." 

"Ruth can tell you the story; it's mighty sad," 
replied Mr. Thompson. 

"Yes, boys, it is indeed a sad story, but its lesson 
may do you good," replied Mrs. Thompson. 

And this is the story she related. 

Among the pioneers of settlement in the great for- 
est wilderness of northern Wisconsin, were Jared 
Slater, a middle-aged tavernkeeper, from Vermont, and 
his young wife. Margaret Strong had been left an or- 
phan at an early age, and had gone into domestic 
service as her only available means of honest support. 
Of course her education was of the most meager sort, 
yet she combined a store of good sense, so often mis- 
called "common," with a character of sterling worth. 

68 



64 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

Especially did she make known her abhorrence of the 
traffic in intoxicating liquors, common at that time to 
all hotels, or "taverns," of the country. And, indeed, 
she had good cause to know and feel the evils of strong 
drink, as her father had gone by this path to the ruin 
of his own soul and body, and the destruction of his 
home. 

When Margaret was wooed by Jared Slater, she 
told him that she would never link her life with one 
who was in any way bound with the chains of the 
demon alcohol, whether as a user or dispenser to others. 
Jared went away, but his love for the young woman 
was true, and again he sought her and proposed that 
he sell his tavern, and then they would marry and 
move to the great forests of Wisconsin, where they 
could begin life anew, unhampered by old surround- 
ings. Margaret finally consented, and they moved 
west. 

Jared spent the first year in clearing up a little 
field for the plow, and in erecting the necessary farm 
buildings; and by the time the baby boy came, things 
about the place were taking on a comfortable, homelike 
appearance. The little family were not utterly alone 
in this far-away land, for the "tote-road," over which 
supplies from the distant railroad station, for the 
farther away camps of the north, were hauled, ran 
past their door, and their home became a stopping 
place for teamsters and other travelers. 

It was not long before Jared's thrifty, Yankee mind 
saw the opportunity for gain lying to his hand in 



THE WAYSIDE TAVERN 



65 



opening his place as a regular tavern, and he told his 
wife of his intention. But Margaret objected. 

"Ye know, Jared," said she, "I don't mind the work. 
I'm able for that a-plenty ; but ye well know I married 
ye and came here to get rid of the tavern. I will not 
have the rum about me." 

"But, Margaret," replied Jared, "we'll have no 
drink in the tavern; just lodging and the eating." 

Thus it was for a time; but the old habits of life 
were revived by the frequent demands of their guests 
for liquor, as they would come in from the long, cold 
drives, and Ja red's cupidity at length got the better of 
his honesty and his faith with his wife, and he began 
to keep and dispense liquor again. 

At first he endeavored to keep his sin from the 
knowledge of his wife ; but greed bred carelessness and 
indifference, and before the third year of their wilder- 
ness home, Jared had his barroom open as a feature of 
the roadhouse. 

Faithfully Margaret pleaded and earnestly did she 
warn her husband that "Whatsoever a man soweth, 
that shall he also reap," but he refused to be moved. 
"I don't drink it myself, ye know, an' if these fools 
want to part with good money for the stuff, it's their 
affair. Some one else will let them have it if I don't, 
and I may as well have the money as any one else." 

It was not long before the effects of the stream of 
damnation that flowed out from Slater's roadhouse 
began to show themselves. When John Pollard went 
home and beat his wife, so that the life of a soon- 



66 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

expected little one was snuffed out, and the mother lin- 
gered long at death's door, it was whispered that the 
blame lay in Jared Slater's barroom. And when that 
winter a tote team arrived at a camp further north 
with the body of the driver stark and stiff, an empty 
bottle from Jared's shelf told the story. 

Not only did the tavernkeeper sell his liquid hell 
to white travelers, but his Indian neighbors, although 
especially protected by a law of the land, became his 
customers on the sly, and Jared's eyes gloated over the 
piles of rich pelts stored in the back room, that repre- 
sented to him but a paltry outlay in liquor. 

"It'll come en ye, Jared, it'll come on ye. I'm 
afeared for ye. Ye know how the drink sets the red 
men wild. It'll come back on ye, as sure as God lives." 
solemnly protested Margaret. 



It was one of those beautiful days in the late spring, 
when all nature seemed to be trying to show man a 
picture of heaven. The soft air was singing in the 
pine tops, the blackbirds were holding a song chorus 
nearby, and the open glade was brilliant with spring 
blossoms. The babe was making happy little noises 
in the sunshine, as it came through the open door. 
The shadow seemed for the moment to be lifted from 
the heart of Margaret, and she sang a hymn as she 
went about her work. Then suddenly she instinctively 
turned her eyes toward the door, with a feeling of fear. 
There stood three Indians silently watching. As they 



THE WAYSIDE TAVERN 67 

saw the woman notice' them, one spoke a single word, 
'"Whisk!" Margaret stood as if turned to stone. The 
Indian again spoke, "Give whisk quick!" 

The woman saw her danger, but never would she 
handle the accursed stuff. The Indians crowded into 
the room, and stalking past Margaret, proceeded to 
help themselves at the bar. Then Margaret turned 
upon them like a fury. For their own sakes, for her 
sake and the baby's, they should not get the fiery liquor. 
Bravely she struggled; then came the flash of a toma- 
hawk, one shrill scream, and the lifeless form of the 
young mother lay upon the floor. 

The Indians drank their fill: they drank until es- 
cape for themselves was impossible, and they lay 
sprawled upon the floor in drunken stupor. 

At near sundown Jared Slater returned to his 
home. The baby, stained in his mother's blood, crying 
upon her lifeless body, the three drunken Indians lying 
upon the floor, told the whole story. The brain of the 
man gave way. In the center of the road in front of 
the house he quickly dug a deep hole, and into that 
hole dragged the bodies of the three Indians — whether 
dead or alive, no one knows. 

That grave in the middle of the road, and the 
tragic story connected with it, preached a temperance 
sermon more effective, perhaps, than could have been 
spoken by the faithful woman who gave her life in a 
protest against the fearful traffic. 

The boys never forgot the story and its lesson, and 
it may be that its effect w r as felt when, in later life 



68 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

one of them put the strength of his manhood into years 
of successful warfare against the liquor traffic. 

Jared Slater lived many years, but he never sold 
another drop of liquor. His crazed mind seemed to 
connect both whiskey and Indians with his trouble, and 
never did he see a bottle or shelf of liquor, but that 
he made an attempt to destroy it; and when, as oc- 
casionally happened, an Indian would be found in the 
woods mysteriously killed, it would be whispered that 
Jared Slater had been again taking his revenge. 

God's law is certain : "Be sure your sin will find you 
out." 



CHAPTER IX 
ed's adventure on lake cheteck 

"Listen, boys," said Mr Allen, one night in Novem- 
ber, as he looked up from a letter which a passing 
tote-teamster had left at the farm. "Here is a letter 
from my old friend Taylor, out in Minnesota, and he 
wants me to send him a 'likely boy' to work during the 
winter." 

Mr. Taylor was a miller whose old-fashioned grist 
mill, run by its large waterwheel, situated where the 
Des Moines river flows out of Lake Cheteck, its source, 
was flour-headquarters for the hardy pioneers of a 
large section of that country. 

Sturdy Ed begged so earnestly to be permitted to 
take the place with their father's old friend for the 
winter, that, after much hesitancy, and no little plan- 
ning, the consent of Mr. and Mrs. Allen was given. 

It was a serious journey for a boy at that time. 
The country, just emerging from the awful paralysis 
of the civil war, was but entering upon that era of 
railroad building which was to cover the west with a 
network of shining steel. As yet there were few rail- 
roads in that state which in a short time was to take 
front rank in grain raising and milling. Saint Paul 
was scarcely more than a big village, and the now mag- 

69 



70 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

nificent metropolis at the falls of St. Anthony had not 
yet emerged from its swadling clothes. 

From the town of New Ulm Ed would have a long, 
cold ride by stage to the little mill out at the edge 
of civilization. 

The few years' experience he had had on the new 
farm in Wisconsin, had hardened his muscles, and, as 
he was not at all afraid of work, Ed soon found and 
fitted into his place at the mill. It was a little lone- 
some so far from home, and the work was somewhat 
monotonous, but the coming of the farmers with their 
loads of grain to be made into or exchanged for 
flour, gave opportunity for some sociability, and their 
stories of the great Indian uprisings, known to history 
as the New Ulm Massacre, were of thrilling interest. 

As the winter came on it proved to be one of unus- 
ual severity, although there was little snow. The canal, 
or "race" by which the the water of the lake was fed 
to the big millwheel, and from it to be tumbled foam- 
ing into the river at the foot of the rapids, usually 
maintained an even height, winter and summer, so, the 
supply of power being steady, it was possible for the 
millers to make preparation late in the evening, and 
leave the wheels to take care of the grist until early 
morning. 

This winter, however, the ice in the river and race 
froze to the depth of three feet, and the power of 
the old mill was diminished to that extent. One night, 
not far from midnight, in the latter part of January, 



ED'S adventtjge on lake chetek 71 

Ed found himself suddenly awake, sitting up in bed. 
Something had happened. What eoidd be the mat- 
ter? Oh, yes, he had been awakened by silence— not 
a noise, but the stopping of the noise of the mill had 
disturbed him. The hum of the burrs had ceased, the 
old wheel was still — the mill had shut down. He 
groped about and got his clothes, and hastened down- 
stairs into the wheel pit. Sure enough, there stood the 
old wheel at rest, for perhaps the first time in many 
years. In the runway there was a small stream of 
water falling, but nothing like enough to turn the 
wheel with the machinery of the mill geared on. Ed 
threw over the gear lever, and the released wheel 
slowly began to revolve again. Then he went up stairs 
where he found Mr. Taylor, who had also been wakened 
as the accustomed hum of the stones ceased, and 
had come over from the house to investigate the cause. 

"There has been some stoppage at the intake," said 
he. "Either the lake has lowered, and the ice frozen 
nearly to the bottom of the channel at the mouth of 
the race, or there has some trash floated in. When 3^011 
have had your breakfast, take an axe and the hook 
and go up and see what the trouble is." 

As soon as daylight came Ed was ready for the 
trip. He buckled on a pair of skates, as the ice was 
in prime condition, and taking the tools across his 
shoulder, was soon skimming up the river. 

As he came to the canal mouth, he struck with the 
axe upon the ice, and it gave forth a hollow sound. 
Evidently the decrease in the flow was not caused by 



72 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

the water freezing to the bottom. There must be some 
obstruction at the intake. 

It was no small work to cut through thirty-six 
inches of ice and locate the exact spot of the obstruc- 
tion, but before ten o'clock Ed had discovered it. Some 
wood choppers, during the summer had been clearing 
on an island half a mile out into the lake, and small 
branches thrown into the water had, by the slow-mov- 
ing current, been carried along finally to the mouth 
of the canal. One branch lodging and freezing, be- 
came the occasion for the stoppage of others, and then 
the mass had swung around and across the mouth of 
the canal, almost cutting off its supply. 

It was no job for a weakling to cut and hook out 
those limbs and brush from the icy water, but finally 
Ed had the satisfaction of seeing the race fill again, 
and knowing that the old wheel would be at its work 
of preparing the farmers' grist once more. 

Ed had never explored the little lake, and the 
stories the settlers had told him of the Indian uprising 
had made him anxious to visit some of the scenes of 
that tragedy so near by. From the intake, past the 
island, he could see, jutting out into the lake, Mas- 
sacre Point, where was still standing the log house 
in which thirteen whites had met their death at the 
hands of the savages. While it would mean the loss 
of his dinner, the lad thought that as he was so near, 
he would skate over to that point, which appeared 
to be not over a mile away, and take a closer look at the 
tragic place. 



ED'S ADVENTTJGE ON LAKE CHETEK 73 

As he was pasing the island, there appeared at 
the edge of a clump of low box-elders the largest dog 
he had ever seen. It was nearly white and not only 
tall, but long in body, and gaunt. It started as if 
it would come to the boy, and he whistled to it. 
However, as it sprang upon the smooth ice, Ed saw' 
it slip and slide, and then, as it regained its footing, 
slowly make its way back to the island. 

Little had been changed about the old log house 
since that fearful day when the family, with the few 
neighbors who had gathered with them for protection, 
had at last succumbed to the rifle and tomahawk of 
the red foes. A rusty kettle was standing in the fire- 
place. Rude benches were still around the table where 
the victims had eaten their last meal. In one corner a 
cradle, hollowed out of a log, told of a baby's share in 
that day of horror. 

As Ed turned away full of sad thoughts and ques- 
tionings, he scarcely noticed his approach to the island 
upon the return journey. As he rounded the point of 
timber, there sprang upon the ice not only one big 
white "dog," but three, with lolling tongues, making 
straight for him. Then he realized what these ani- 
male were ; not dogs, but the big, fierce, dreaded timber 
wolves. However, Ed was not much frightened. He 
rather enjoyed the thought of a race with them. There 
seemed to be only enough danger to add spice to the 
adventure. On his skates he could outrun them, and 
he had smooth going all the way home. 

But he had not reckoned upon the power of those 



74 BOTS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

long, lank bodies, and muscular limbs, nor upon the 
hunger that drove them to attack a human being in 
daylight. He had not reached the edge of the lake 
before he heard teeth snap like the spring of a steel 
trap, and almost involuntarily he sprang to one side 
while the wolves slid by upon their haunches, endeavor- 
ing to stop. Then, with another dodge, as they turned 
and again came at the lad on the ice, he passed them 
and gained a considerable distance toward home. Twice 
he was able to escape them through this maneuver be- 
fore they reached the channel of the river. 

Here came new tactics on the part of the wolves. 
Upon the ground they could outrun the boy, and they 
.sprang up the bank, speeding on ahead, and as he 
came up all made a dash for him, full in the face. 
In desperation Ed threw at them the heavy ice-hook, 
which they attempted to dodge, but only two got away 
uninjured, while the third dragged himself off with a 
broken leg. "Well, you brutes," the boy shouted, "I 
have but two of you to deal with now." 

His respite was not to be a long one, for as he en- 
tered a part of the river where the banks widened out 
into a tiny but deep lakelet, they sprang again from 
the shore in such a spurt of savage fury that in a 
few moments Ed could hear the panting breath from 
those blood-flecked, foamy mouths close upon his heels. 

Ed whirled his sharp axe around as he sped for- 
ward, and with an almost involuntary cry to God for 
help, brought it behind him in a mighty swing. A dull 
thud, as it left his hand, told him that it had struck 



ed's adventuge on lake ciietek 75 

home, and he knew that another one of the horrid 
pursuers would not trouble him more. But even as the 
thought of rejoicing came, Ed felt the steel-trap-like 
snap of the remaining wolf's jaws close together in 
one of his heavy boots — and in that same instant the 
ice gave away, as the river seemed to rise up from 
beneath and overwhelm both boy and beast. 

In his anxiety to escape the wolves, Ed had not 
noticed the condition of the ice they were approaching, 
nor the fact that from the chunks of ice scattered about, 
some settlers had been to this place earlier in the day 
for blocks to store away for summer use. The intense 
cold had quickly skimmed over with thin ice the place 
from which the great blocks had been taken, but not 
of strength sufficient to bear the heavy weight of boy 
and wolf. 

Ed had gone clear under — the water had closed 
over his head — but fortunately, as the} 7 went down, the 
big brute had loosened his hold upon the boy's leg, 
and fortunately also, the ice, although not strong 
enough for support, was thick enough to break the 
force of the speed with which they were coining, and as 
he rose to the surface, Ed's head came up in the place 
from which the thick ice had been taken away. 

The wolf was less fortunate, for the boy never saw 
it again. In his kicking and struggling to come to 
the surface, he may have pushed it down under the 
thick ice. However, I do not think he was sorry then — 
or since, for that matter. 

But, although the wolf was gone, the boy was by 



76 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

no means out of danger. No one who has not been in a 
like predicament can realize the difficulty of one who 
has broken through the ice, in getting out without aid. 
In fact, there are very few cases on record where such 
happy terminations have ensued. The numbing cold of 
the water, so quickly paralyzing the vital forces; the 
weight of the heavy clothing pulling down; the lack 
of any object by which one can pull himself upon the 
ice, make the condition of one in such a plight most 
desperate. 

Ed can not remember of being greatly frightened ; 
certainly he did not fall into a panic. If he had, he 
would have soon gone under. He realized that he must 
keep cool — I mean in his thoughts; for he was cool 
enough otherwise— and use every possible means to 
extricate himself. He was facing downstream, and 
nearly at the side of the place from which the thick 
ice had been cut, for the speed at which he had been 
going had carried him some distance upon the thin 
ice. Ed knew that if he reached the thick ice on the 
downstream side, the current would draw his legs 
under the ice, and he could not hope to get out. He 
must turn about and make his way up stream to that 
edge of the hole his body had made as he had broken 
in. There Ed began with his fists and elbows to break 
away the thin ice so that he could reach that which 
was thick and firm. The current of the river and his 
heavy boots and clothing seemed determined to drag 
him away and under. Again and again he was forced 



ed's adventuge on lake chetek 77 

to pause for breath. But the numbness was creeping- 
over the boy. He dared not stop in his efforts. 

At last he reached the firm ice. Oh, for some one 
to reach a hand now ! but he was so far away he could 
hope for no help from the mill. If the ice was only 
rough he might get some sort of hold upon it with his 
bleeding fingers — but it was as smooth as polished 
glass, and the water, that in his struggles was thrown 
upon the ice, made it that much more impossible for 
him to grasp a hold. 

Something had to be done, and that at once, or the 
lad's body would soon be slowly floating beneath the 
ice along with that of the wolf — perhaps never to be 
found ; at least not until the spring sun should unlock 
the icy prison. What would Mr. Taylor think when he 
should find the axe and the other wolf? What would 
be the feelings of the folks in the far-away Wisconsin 
home ? 

But the lad would not give up ; he must try again ! 
He began to spring up and down in the water, throw- 
ing himself forward each time he came up. At last, 
by a supreme effort, he did not slip back into that 
yawning, watery grave, but found himself balanced 
over upon the ice. 

For some seconds Ed was too much exhausted to 
pull his legs entirely out of the water, but lay gasping 
for breath ; all in a tremble. He could not rise to his 
feet, but knowing that even a short inaction now would 
prove as fatal as if he were still in the water, he rolled 
over and over, away from the hole, beating his arms 



BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 



upon his body, until at length he was able to sit up, 
then to rise to his knees, and then stagger to his feet. 

Ed will never forget the rest of that trip home. He 
struck out to skate, clumsity enough at first, and, as 
the blood began to course to the extremities, it seemed 
as though a thousand red-hot needles were piercing 
his flesh. The bitter cold soon caused his outer clothing 
to encase him like a coat of mail, in which only the 
most strenuous exertions kept enough pliability to al- 
low him to move at all. 

Ed did reach the mill, after a while, and, strange 
to say, suffered very little ill effect from his adventure. 
His bruised hands healed quickly, and frozen toes and 
ears were so usual in that winter climate, as to not be 
mentioned among casualties. 



CHAPTER X 

THE PAINT MINE 

Occasionally cows seem to be like folks — that is, pos- 
sessed with the thing which, in despair of calssifying, 
we call "human nature." A manifestation of this 
trait appeared several times in the spring, as each patch 
of tender, green grass seemed to say to the wander- 
ing cows, "It is just a little sweeter and juicier in the 
next swale, further on. Don't stop here." And so they 
would wander, like folks, on and on, never quite satis- 
fied with the present good, but always expecting to 
reach the goal of desire at the next place ahead. 

This wandering propensity was a source of much 
annoyance and loss of time to the boys in their busy 
spring work. Often the cows would fail to reach 
home until away in the night— only then impelled by 
over-full udders, and a tardy remembrance of the new 
calves in the barn lot. 

But finally there came a night when no din of bawl- 
ing aroused the boys to a late milking, and morning 
light revealed but a lot of half-starved calves at the 
barn. 

"This won't do at all," said Rob ; "we've got to go 
after those cows, even if it means the loss of a precious 
day." 

The straight trail leading to their usual feeding 



80 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

grounds was easily followed, but there little trails led 
about in all directions. To the west lay the deep 
Iron Creek marsh, a vast morass fully a mile wide, 
supposed to be impassible except in the dryest seasons. 
Eeally, it was a sluggish, scarcely-moving, shallow 
river, overgrown with rushes and coarse grass, through 
which water moved slowly along, down from the 
great north country. 

This had always acted as an effective barrier to the 
westward-roving of the cattle, and to the north lay the 
big woods, with their scanty growth of grass. Until 
late in the afternoon the boys hunted off towards the 
south, circling around this low-lying island, climbing 
a tree on that, in hopes of discovering the bunch 
resting somewhere, hidden away. Disheartened at 
last, they turned their faces homeward. 

Shortly after noon Mrs. Allen heard a great lowing 
of cows, accompanied with bleating of frantic calves, 
and going to the north door had seen the cows coming 
in on a run, the milk trickling in little streams from 
their udders — full almost to bursting. Indeed it was 
now great concern those mothers were feeling for their 
offspring. She wisely let down the bars, and it was 
not long before the misery of over-fulness was trans- 
ferred from the cows to the calves. 

The return of the cows presented puzzling aspects 
to the boys, but there was another mystery to be solved, 
which was not able to be cleared up until later. 

"See the cows' legs!" exclaimed Bob. "They've 
found another berry patch." Several times during 



THE PAINT MINE 81 

those June days the cattle had returned home with 
shanks dyed red from crushing the long-stemmed wild 
strawberries, which grew in great profusion in patches 
on the higher portions of the marsh. 

"Strawberries never stained that high up," an- 
swered Ed, going over to the cattle. Maybe the mos- 
quitoes have been at them again. See, their udders 
even are all red, and the calves have rubbed it all over 
their heads too." Ed's supposition was a reasonable 
one, for not infrequently the insects had appeared in 
the marshes in such swarms as to drive the cattle in 
to dark shelter of the stables, even in day time, the poor 
beasts coming in frantic and all bloody from the at- 
tack of these pests. But this time the color was not 
the stain of strawberries, nor that of blood drawn bj' 
insects. 

"Come here, look at this, Eob," called Ed as he 
held up his hand all red, where he had passed it over 
the belly of Old Spot. "Some one has painted our 
cows! This is nothing else than red paint." A quick 
examination showed that the entire bunch had received 
the same treatment — a thick, bright red plaster cov- 
ered all their legs and the under parts of the body. 

Who had done such a thing, and why ? The thought 
of their Indian neighbors flashed into the minds of 
both boys; tlfey had paint like that with which in 
some of their ceremonial dances they smeared them- 
selves. Had they held the cows overnight and painted 
them up this way? If so, what could have been the 
motive ? 



82 BOYS OP THE OLD SEA BED 

Had Mr. Allen been at home lie might have ven- 
tured a shrewder guess as to the nature of the ma- 
terial with which the cows had been decorated, but 
he, too, would have lacked the revelation of the secret 
which came to the boys a little later. 

The corn and oats were all in and growing nicely, 
and the boys had promised that before haying should 
begin, they would accompany their Indian friend, Ka- 
lichigoogah, and his people, blueberrying, over across 
Iron Creek marsh, to the somewhat higher swales and 
little sandy islands of the Little Yellow river, where 
this luscious berry found its natural habitat. 

This pilgrimage was an annual custom of the red 
men. Here, when the low bushes, growing luxuriantly 
in moist earth, were so heavily laden with great clus- 
ters, from a little distance it appeared as if a section 
of the sky had fallen upon the ground. Then the In- 
dians would come and camp for a couple of weeks, 
while squaws and papooses — and sometimes the men, 
when they felt in the mood — would pick and spread 
the fruit out to dry in the hot sun, to be afterwards 
stored away in linden bark baskets, for their feasting 
in the lean months of snow and cold. So much of 
providence had the Indian learned from the white 
man. 

Accmpanying their red friends, the boys set forth 
one early morning. Their guns were reluctantly left at 
home, for they would have provision to last them a 
week to pack one way, and some heavy loads of the 
half dried berries, they hoped, on the return. The 



THE PAINT MINE 83 

Indians shaped their course not due west, as the boys 
had supposed they would, to the Iron Creek marsh, but 
northwest, to where the timber belt came close down to 
the deep morass. It seemed to the boys a long way 
around, but it provd to be about the only way across. 
The rapid, swinging, half-trot soon brought them into 
a well-worn trail, leading in their desired direction. 
Whether this was a deer trail, or a path worn deep by 
generations of Indians passing this way, as was their 
custom, in single file, the boys could not tell. Probably 
men and beasts both had a part in the formation of 
this easily travelled, narrow T road. 

As they reached the place where the timber came 
down to the edge of the marsh they saw why the trail 
had led that way. The marsh was narrow at this point, 
and nearly across, at some time in the long ago, beavers 
had constructed a dam, which probably for centuries 
had resisted the force of flood and current, and held 
back the waters in a little lake. Along this grass-grown 
solid embankment the travellers passed dry-shod near- 
ly to the further side of the swamp, where a break ha 1 
been made, probably started by the hole-boring-craw- 
fish. 

Except in the highest stages of the spring flood, all 
the waters of the big marsh passed through this break. 
Dark and cold, and waist deep, the strong current 
was soon passed through, each of our boys, as well as 
the squaws, bearing upon their shoulders a big-eyed 
papoose, in addition to their packs of provision. The 
Indian braves carried their guns — and much dignity. 



84 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

Above the dam were perhaps an hundred turf 

es, resembling minature Indian lodges, standing 

in the shallow water. "Beavers?" enquired Rob of 

his red friend. "Musquash," replied the Indian boy. 

"Beaver go. Smell 'urn white man — no like." Whether 

• si rat or beaver, the boys determined to come that 

! i rapping in the fall. 

As they reached the western side of the marsh, a 

siran e sight met their eyes. A long, flat bank — how 

[< ng they could not tell — lay up against the shore, 

gk timing in colors of yellow, orange and red. There 

•: tracks where some kind of animals had come 

i across to drink at the running current. 

took at that, boys!" shouted Rob. "Did you ever 

>f such a thing ? It's a regular paint mine. There's 

our cows came, and they plastered themselves 

so well that the stuff didn't all wash off when they 

w aded through this water." 

Rob and Ed were for turning aside at once to in- 
stigate. "Why, there must be tons and tons of that 
stuff." "How far do you suppose it extends toward 
the north?" "I wonder how deep the bed is." "What 
is the stuff, any how?" "There's enough of it in sight 
to paint the world." "If we can get that to market 
our fortune's made." These were some of the eager 
c cclamations of the boys. 

However, the Indians seemed to be not in the least 
excited, but rather were anxious to reach their camp- 
ing place, and refused to stop, pushing ahead at the 
steady, rapid pace. The trail led across a wide, sandy 



OK 

THE PAINT MINE °° 



ridge covered with Norway pines. Here and there 
were depressions of from one to two acres in extent, 
already covered with a luxuriant growth of blue- joint 
grass, nearly waist high. 

Occasionally a deer would bound away from be- 
hind a fallen tree. The doe and her fawn were safe 
from the Indian's rifle, but the fat, grass-fed buck 
had best be wary. Once the procession stopped for a 
moment as a huge lucivee, the Canadian lynx— "Indian 
devil" as it was called and dreaded by the early white 
hunters of the far north— dropped down from a pine 
tree into the trail in front of them. With insolent, 
yellow eyes the big cat looked them over, and, seeming 
to conclude that it was not worth his while to dispute 
the way, moved leisurely off. The Indians, though 
armed, had a wholesome respect for this animal's fight- 
ing qualities, who seemed to have not only the tradi- 
tional nine lives of the cat, but a big added store of in- 
vincibility on his own account. Any one of them, 
however, might have tackled the big brute, had they 
been alone, but all together would let him go in peace, 
if so he elected, for the sake of the women and little 
ones with them. 

In a space bare of trees or other growth, the boys 
caught sight of some noble deer antlers, yet attached 
to bare skulls, and about which were scattered many 
white bones. Here was the scene of a woods-folk trag- 
edy. The brave antlers on the two bare skulls were 
inextricably locked together. The picture came to 
the boys as they trudged on:— 



86 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

The crisp brightness of an October morning — 
mating time ; the meeting of the two gallant knights of 
the forest; the quick call of challenge; the fierce stamp- 
ing of slender hoofs; the rush; the shock of impact, 
head to head ; the great horns locked, prong in prong, 
the attempt to break away for thrust and stroke with 
knife-like hoof; the long day of alternate fierce strug- 
gle for freedom and panting exhaustion. Then came 
night — and the wolves, for there were to be no more 
dav^, long-drawn-out with suffering, for these brave 
warriors. 

It is the law of the wild that none of the woods- 
folk shall die of old age, neither shall very many suffer 
long of wounds, but, when the strength and cunning 
that nature has given, no longer protects, their flesh 
shall pass to add to the strength of the stronger. 

The days of a week passed rapidly, as the boys 
gathered berries, which dried quickly on the clean, hot 
sand. However, they could not rid themselves of the 
thought of the great "paint mine," as they called it, 
and the desire to investigate and learn its real value, 
possessed them. They already had twice as many ber- 
ries, Bob said, as the family could eat in a year. But 
Ed argued that the paint mine could wait a little, 
while the berries would not. Besides, he had a plan 
to sell a lot of this dried fruit to the men going up into 
the big woods, next fall. After talking over the mat- 
ter, they concluded to go back after the steers and light 
wagon, as now they knew the trail, and bring more pro- 
vision, and something in which to pack the dried ber- 



THE PAINT MINE 87 

ries. Also, they would bring a barrel, which they 
would fill with the paint. 

Taking along a few quarts of the half-dried fruit 
for their mother, the boys started for home about sun- 
down, preferring to make the trip of eight miles by the 
light of the moon, rather than in the heat of the day, 
for old Sol had now begun to show his strength in 
the short northern summer. Of course there would be 
no chance of an investigation of the paint mine, though 
Ed would fill a pocket with the pasty, red stuff, to show 
to mother. 

The berries were harvested, a goodly store, and for 
which they found a ready sale among the north-bound 
lumbermen, the next fall, at ten cents per pound. Re- 
turning, they spent half a day at the red bank, inspect- 
ing the paint mine. Where the bank lay clear and free 
from grass it extended for perhaps an hundred yards 
up stream, where it seemed to shelve off into the water, 
and there the grass and rushes were growing up 
through it. The deposit in the bank was not gritty, 
but smooth and slippery, like fine clay, apparently 
free from soil or dirt, and ranged in color from an 
orange yellow, to a deep brown. In several places 
where they dug, it was a full foot in depth, though 
perhaps half of that would be an average depth. 

"Just look at it, Ed," exclaimed Hob. "How many 
tons of it do you suppose there is? If it wasn't so far 
from some railroad, we could make our fortune ship- 
ping this." 

"But, Rob," replied sturdy Ed, "it's only about 



88 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

four miles straight to the river; and we could easily 
fill the five barrels that we have, and build a raft and 
float them down to Necedah. I am sure we could sell 
it to Mr. Blake; he always keeps the mill buildings 
painted. And then, perhaps, we could raft another lot 
down to Kilbourne." 

Mr. Allen had arrived at home when the boys 
reached there with their specimen barrel, and was 
greatly interested in their account of the paint mine. 
"It is a very pure specimen of ocher, boys, and some 
day, when the railroads push out into this country, 
will be of commercial value." 

"What is ocher, father?" asked Rob. 

"Chemically speaking, son, it is iron peroxide. In 
plain terms — iron rust." 

"But why is some of it red and some yellow?" 
questioned Ed. 

Father laughed. "That calls for some more hard 
words, words that tell what, but not so much why or 
how. That part you will have to puzzle out when 
you are in college. The red receives its color from the 
sesquioxide, and the yellow from the hydrous ses- 
quioxide of iron." 

"But where has all that iron rust come from?" 
asked Rob. "Are there any iron mines about here?" 

"No," replied Mr. Allen, "I have seen no indica- 
tion of iron in the rock of the bluffs which push up 
through the surface here. Yet the water of all these 
marshes seems to be more or less impregnated with 
iron. And it is that fact which gives to this section 



THE PAINT MINE 89 

its peculiar value in the culture of cranberries. Some- 
where at the north — how far, who can say? — this 
water of the Iron Creek marsh, you may be sure, 
flows over a bed of iron ore. Who knows but that some 
day you boys may be the ones to locate that iron mine?" 

Mr. Allen believed that boys, in order to become 
well-developed, strong men, should be allowed a wide 
range for experiment, thinking that the lessons thus 
learned would be of more permanent value than those 
learned in books or from mere advice. So he agreed 
to the plan the boys had explained, of rafting their 
five barrels of ochre down the river to Necedah. 

Two days were spent in mining and bringing the 
mineral to the bank of the stream, another day in 
building the raft, and, as the river was half-bank full 
with the June rise, but two more days were required 
to bring them to the big sawmill town at the foot of the 
great granite bluff. 

The boys had many questions to answer, when they 
had found the good-natured lumberman, but he took 
the raw "paint" off their hands, and the boys with 
happy hearts turned their faces homeward with five 
crisp five-dollar bills in their pockets. 

These youngsters were not to be the discoverers 
of the hidden iron mine away to the north, for many 
necessary duties pressed in upon them, and they found 
no time to spare for so uncertain a trip, but when they 
had grown to manhood, the railroads did indeed come, 
and even before their coming, the mine was laid open. 
As the boys were bargaining with Mr. Blake for the 



90 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

sale of their ocher, they noticed in the crowd of inter- 
ested bystanders "Old John T.", as everybody called 
the great man of all that country. "His eyes were 
like two sharp augers under those heavy eyebrows," 
said Rob, "as he asked questions regarding the deposit, 
the lay of the land, and the direction of the flowing 
water." 

It is a matter of history that not long after this 
incident the great Gogebic iron range, which has made 
Wisconsin famous as an iron producing state, was dis- 
covered in the northern part of the state, and "Old 
John T." was one of its large owners to the day of 
his death. 



CHAPTER XI 

TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 

In one of their cow-hunting expeditions, the Allen 
boys went some seven or eight miles to the west, where 
they came to a deep but narrow little river, running 
down through a broad marsh, or wet prairie, which was 
more than a mile in width. The water in the little 
river was clear and quite cool. Up and down the 
stream, as far as the eye could see, the marsh was 
covered with luxuriant, nutritious "blue- joint" grass, 
in many places growing to a height above the boys' 
heads. 

Of the purchase money received for the Wisconsin 
"swamp land," a certain portion was set aside for its 
reclamation, the direction of which work was placed 
in the hands of the county authorities. Mr. Allen was 
a natural, as well as practical civil engineer, and hi = 
investigation of the- land convinced him of the value 
of this great tract, if it might be properly drained and 
dammed to take care of the annual floods coming 
down from the melting snows of the north. He found 
a place where, by cutting through one high sand 
knoll, a ditch- might be constructed all the way in the 
easily-worked peat, and the waters of the little stream 
be thus turned into the Yellow river. 

Some wealthy friends were found who were willing 
91 



92 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

to back Mr. Allen's judgment, with the purchase mon- 
ey, and more than ten thousand acres of this land 
were secured. Mr. Allen was able himself to obtain 
from the county the contract for the drainage works. 

It was late in August before arrangements could be 
completed for beginning the big ditch, which was to 
turn the waters of one river into another, and give 
such control over the irrigation of some thousands of 
acres of level land, that it might be planted with cran- 
berry vines, and the water be held upon it during the 
summer months, or, drained dry, to be converted into 
choice farm lands, as the future should determine. 

A camp house was built upon the pine knoll where 
the deep cut would be made, and a score of men secured 
who would labor as shovelers and dam builders. First, 
the course of the little river was to be straightened, 
by the meanderings being cut across, then a big dam 
thrown across the wide expanse of marsh, back of 
which the waters could be held if needful. 

I suppose that never was there such another dam 
constructed, and yet it served its purpose well, and 
endured for many years. The soil of that great marsh 
was not what we are accustomed to call "soil" — sand 
or clay mixed with humus — but was composed of peat. 
Ages of moss and other vegetable growth had fallen 
and decayed into a brown mass, into which grass roots 
had crept, weaving the whole into a tough, fibrous 
blanket of from three to ten feet in thickness. The 
line of the ditch was staked out across the marsh, and 
with knives whose blades were as broad as one's two 



TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 93 

hands, and three feet long, lateral lines were cut deep 
into this tough peat. Then cross cuts were made the 
width of the to-be ditch forming squares ten inches or 
a foot each way. Then, with a many-pronged bent 
fork these squares were pulled up by the men, and 
there were huge "bricks" of peat, three feet long, to 
be laid into the wall of the dam on the down-stream 
side. 

Of course, as the water drained from the blocks of 
peat, the dam would be a light affair, as to weight, but 
as the shovelers following raised it to a height of five 
feet, and plastered all crevices and both sides with, the 
soft peat from the bottom of the ditch, it formed a 
very compact whole. 

Mr. Allen figured, and so it proved, that the grass 
roots would continue to grow, and in the course of a 
season or two the entire dam would be able to with- 
stand with safety the pressure of a two or three lee 1 
head of water. 

Rob and Ed found the work upon the dam fascin- 
ating, notwithstanding the necessity of wet feet, and 
back-wrenching lifting of the huge peat "bricks,'" but 
the work at the farm prevented them from taking the 
permanent part they desired. Upon one of his visits 
home, it was evident that Mr. Allen was undergoing 
some unusual distress or worry of mind, and as it was 
the custom of the family to discuss together the prob- 
lems that would come up, Mr. Allen finally acknowl- 
edged that the ditchers were at that time in an ugly 
mood. 



94 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

"It seems to be a question of fresh meat," said he. 
"We have one or two constitutional growlers in camp, 
and while they are too valuable for me to turn away, 
they have the men stirred up against the salt pork and 
corned beef we have. I have made several trips to 
Necedah and Lisbon to try and arrange for a supply 
of fresh beef, but the drouth and fire of last year seem 
to have cut down the supply of beef cattle." 

"Father, I have an idea." exclaimed Ed. "Do you 
suppose you could get along if you furnished a big 
dinner of game three times a week?" 

"To be sure we could, son," replied Mr. Allen, "but 
who is the mighty Nimrod who could shoot enough 
game to satisfy thirty men three times a week? and 
who is the millionaire who would pay for the ammuni- 
tion?" 

"That's all right, father," said Rob, "if you will 
give Ed and Dauphin and me the contract at the- same 
price you would have to pay for fresh beef, I see how 
we can do it." 

With all due seriousness and in due form Mr. Allen 
drew up the contract whereby Robert Allen, Ed Allen, 
and Dauphin Thompson, parties of the first part, were 
to deliver, three times per week, until freezing weather, 
from twenty-five to fifty pounds, according to their 
pleasure, of properly dressed wild meat at the ditching 
camp on the Little Yellow River. In consideration 
of which delivery of meat, Mr. Allen, party of the 
second part, agreed to pay to the aforesaid parties 



TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 95 

of the first part the sum of ten cents per pound for all 
such meat so delivered. 

"Hurray!" shouted the boys, when the document 
was signed. "Now you'll see who the millionaires 
are you are talking about." 

Mr. Allen laughed, but he returned to the ditch- 
ing camp with a lighter brow, for he knew that his 
boys were resourceful, and it might be that they had 
hit upon some plan which would give good results. 

Upon several acres of sod plowing, buckwheat had 
been sown, and had so thriven that the early Septem- 
ber frosts had found an abundant harvest of the queer 
little three-cornered grains already matured. The 
boys found it back-breaking work to cut this field with 
their old-fashioned scythes, but at last it had been 
finished, and then raked up into piles to be thoroughly 
cured before being stacked. 

The buckwheat harvest seemed to be taken as an in- 
vitation to feast, by the innumerable prairie chickens 
of the vicinity, with all their kinfolk. And they came. 
The boys had no reason to object as long as the birds 
confined themselves to gleaning the scattered grains 
from the field, but when they proceeded to tear down 
the raked-up piles, and the boys saw their hard work 
about to be brought to naught, their ire began to arise 
against the maurauders. 

Be it said to their credit, that the thought of killing- 
more of the prairie chickens than could be used for 
food never occurred to them. But w T hen the oppor- 
tunity presented itself of saving the ditching job with 



96 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

fresh meat, the boys eagerly fell in with Ed's plan of 
making the birds pay for their feeding. 

So the very next morning the boys crept along the 
stake-and-rider fence, until they came close to where 
the birds were noisily helping themselves to the buck- 
wheat harvest. The birds were taken by surprise and 
ten of them were left flopping on the ground as the 
flock arose at the noise of the guns. The boys carefully 
cleaned and picked the birds, stuffing the carcasses with 
fresh grass. Again, when the flock came back to its 
evening meal, the maneuver of sneaking along the 
fence was repeated, as the sun was sinking in the west. 
Eight birds this time fell victims to the three guns, 
and were quickly prepared, for Douphin was to make 
a moonlight ride to the camp with the forty pounds 
of the longed-for fresh meat. 

If the children of Israel were greedy when the 
quails came as the result of their murmurings. these 
ditchers were none the less so when it became known 
what Dauphin had brought, and it required all the 
diplomacy the cook possessed to put the men off until 
breakfast for their prairie chicken stew. 

Dauphin would be at the camp over night, so the 
following morning Rob and Ed took their guns and 
began to slowly creep along the fence toward the buck- 
wheat field. But before they came into firing dis- 
tance, thejr heard a shrill "ka-r-rh !" from the top of a 
tall, dead poplar standing near, and the whole flock 
took wing and sailed away to safety. The birds had 
posted a sentinel upon that lookout, and it was clear 



TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 97 

that some other plan must now be hit upon if the boys 
would be able to carry out their contract. 

"I tell you what we can do to fool those fellows," 
said Eob, "We'll get out before daylight, and cover 
ourselves with the buckwheat straw, and be all ready 
for the beggars when they come for their sunrise 
breakfast." 

This they did, and chuckled as they saw the senti- 
nel posted in the tree top, peering this way and that 
with craning neck. All unsuspicious, the big birds 
settled down over the field, and began noisily to tear at 
the bundels of grain, when, "bang! bang! bang!" the 
three guns rang out at an agreed signal, and, all to- 
gether again, with the second barrels, as the flock took 
wing. 

That was a famous haul, for nineteen birds were 
secured. As there was no way, in those' days, or place 
of preserving fresh meats in cold storage, the boys 
waited for their next ambuscade until the following 
morning, when nearly as many chickens were secured. 
At the third morning, however, the prairie chickens 
lit in trees and upon the rail fence, at a safe distance 
from the guns; and while they protested their hunger 
with many a "ka-r-rh, M they did not come down into 
the field, much to the disgust of the boys. 

When the same result obtained for the next day. 
the boys saw that some new scheme must be hit upon 
to save their contract. Deadfalls, "figure -t's," 1 and coop 
traps were suggested and discussed, but it was decided 
that the big flock had grown so wise that these were 



98 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

not practicable. At last Dauphin spoke up with a 
brightening- face: "How many of those little steel 
traps have you, boys?" 

"About fifty, I guess," Ed replied. 

"Well, I've a notion. Let's get out some of them 
and I'll show you what I mean," continued Dauph. 

The traps were brought out, and Dauph proceeded 
to demonstrate his plan. The chain of the trap would 
be fastened to a block of wood, then a little hole dug 
in the ground large enough to hold the trap, leaving 
the "pan," or flat trigger, nearly level with the surface. 
About the trap was Scattered the buckwheat straw, and 
on the "pan" of the trap was heaped a little pile of 
grain, temptingly ready for a bird breakfast. 

"Now we are ready for them," said Dauph. "They 
may set their old sentinels, and we'll let them see us 
— at a distance." 

The plan w T orked. There would be a momentary 
flutter as a bird would be caught by the neck when 
the trap sprung at its pecking, or as a chicken would 
vainly try to fly away with the block of wood when the 
steel jaws closed upon a thickly feathered leg, but 
hearing no gun, and taking note of the human foes 
still at a safe distance, the foolish actions of their in- 
dividual neighbors were considered to be of no con- 
cern to the rest of the flock. And never did they come 
to the knowledge that they were being trapped. The 
boys were able to harvest, each day from the traps 
they set, from fifteen to twenty of the big birds from 
their buckwheat field, and not only saved the day for 



00 
TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 



the big ditching job, but through their contract were 
able to lay up a nice sum toward their future projects. 
The drainage operations closed down in October, 
but not before a ditch had been run for two miles 
from the Yellow river to the big sand knoll. It was 
through this that the more serious part of the work 
would be found, and here again, in the latter part of 
March, Mr. Allen brought a crew. 

"Father," said Ed, one day, "what are you doing 
this spring for fresh meat? Of course we can't get you 
any prairie chickens, but we would like to earn a little 
more money before planting time." 

Mr. Allen laughed. "Why, I haven't heard any 
complaint from the men as yet about their fare, but we 
might take a mess of fish once in a while.*' 

"Fish!" exclaimed Rob. "Why, you know, father, 
that we have never been able to get the fish to bite 
to any extent since we have lived hero.' 

"Well, come over and look in the big ditch," re- 
sponded Mr. Allen with a smile. 

The boys took the hint, and when they came to the 
big ditch they saw, crowding up stream along the 
sandy bottom of its clear waters, multitudes of long, 
slender pickerel, one of the most prized game fish of 
the Wisconsin waters. "I might have thought of 
that," said naturalist Dauphin. "These fish crowd 
mto'every little stream each spring and swim up as far 
as they can, to deposit their eggs." 

With the three-tined spears that Uncle Sam 
Thompson made for them, the boys enjoyed great 



100 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

sport in the shallow water of the big ditch, and put 
away several more dollars as a result of the fish dinners 
served to the ditchers. 

Then came the days of the flight of the "passenger 
pigeons," and a new idea entered the heads of the boys. 

To one who was not for himself privileged to see, 
the tales of the great size of the flocks of these birds, 
of their nesting places, of their daily flights for food, 
must appear gross exaggeration. Yet I am but stating 
an historical fact when I say that at times the sky 
would be darkened as by a heavy thunder cloud, and 
tlie rush of wings could be likened only to the roar of 
a mighty waterfall, at the passage of the innumerable 
multitudes of these birds. 

In the section of the state concerning which I 
write, there was no form of animal life in such appar- 
ant prodigal abundance. Much has been written of 
the "passenger pigeon;" the beauty of its long, blue 
and bluish-white body; its rapid flight; its habits of 
nesting at a remote distance from its feeding ground 
— and then the mystery of the sudden and complete 
extinction of this the most numerous of all birds. For 
it was, that one day the woods were full of their nest- 
lings, the skies darkened by their flight — and then they 
were not, forever. 

The mystery of the "passenger pigeon" is indeed 
like that of that prehistoric race, the builders of the 
strange mounds of that region — without doubt, a great 
and numerous people, spreading from the Rockies to 



TRAPPING GAME BIRDS 101 

the AHeghanies — but who, in some long-past days were 
not, leaving no answer to Why, and When, and How. 

The clouds of these birds spread over the boys at 
their fishing. "Dauph," said Rob, "do you know where 
these birds will nest ?" 

"Yes," replied Dauphin, "over in the dead pines 
in Adams county, some fifteen miles from here. Uncle 
Sam says there were millions upon millions of nests 
there last year." 

"Well, I'm for taking a trip over that way to see 
what we can do for another fresh meat contract." said 
Ed. 

The boys carried out their plan, and when they came 
to the abandoned fields of dead pines they found the 
crudely built nests of the past year in inconceivable 
numbers. About three o'clock in the afternoon the 
birds began to arrive from their feeding place over 
in Minnesota, and the noise and apparent confusion 
were indescribable. As they came crowding into their 
roosting place it was not guns that the boys needed 
for their capture, but simply clubs to swing, and in 
almost no time they had as many of these game birds 
as they could make use of at a time. 

"Boys, I've an idea. "It's clearly too far over 
here for us to come for what the camp could use of the 
game for one day, or even two. But if we could make 
a lot of coops and take back a load of live pigeons, we 
could feed them and use them as they would be needed." 

"Yes, that's all right," replied Rob, "but catching 
em alive is another thing." 



102 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

"Well, wait until I explain," replied Ed. "Did you 
notice how the birds came flying in so closely packed 
together that they had no chance to get out of our 
way? Well, I've been thinking of the four big, close- 
woven hammocks mother has at home. If we would 
fasten them together and stretch them up among the 
trees, I believe the birds would fly against them and 
get tangled up in the meshes, and we could take a lot 
of them alive." 

"Good scheme! Good scheme!" shouted the other 
boys. "We'll do that very thing. 

It was ten days later, however, before the boys 
were able to secure the team with which to make the 
trip, and then they found brooding mothers already 
hovering over the stick nests, each of which contained 
two white eggs. 

The boys were disappointed, but that the birds 
might be disturbed while rearing their young was 
not to be thought of. "Well," said Rob, "it means 
waiting until next spring." But the next spring the 
pigeons did not return, and to this day the scientists 
are discussing what became of the "passenger pigeon." 



CHAPTER XII 

THE MOUNDBUILDERS 

"Father," said Ed one evening, as he came in from 
a short hunting trip, "were there ever any armies en- 
camped here, or battles fought in this part of the 
country?" 

"No, son," replied Mr. Allen, "not that history 
gives account of. There may have been some fighting 
between the Indian tribes and the voyageurs who ac- 
companied the Jesuit Fathers as they explored this 
land, in the early days of settlement of our country, 
but nothing like armies or battles have been known 
here." 

"Well, I found some old fortifications, or what 
looked like them, today. I had started up a deer near 
the Round Slough, and found that it took to a trail 
leading almost due west. About a mile from the 
slough I came to what evidently had been an old bed 
of the river, where sometime in the long past it had 
made a big bend, up near the high sand knolls. Now 
it was entirely dry, and I ran down into the old bed 
and across, and clambered up the west bank. It was 
there I found the earthworks. At first, where I ran 
across it, I thought it was a ridge of dirt some big 
flood had left upon the bank, but as I followed it along 
for several rods I came to the conclusion that it must 

103 



104 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

have been the work of men. It was of uniform height 
and size, and followed the curve of the river. Soon 
I came to a large mound, some twelve feet across, just 
where the bend in the river had come, and saw that 
another embankment, like the one upon which I was 
walking, stretched out from this central mound on 
the other side. 

"It was for all the world as though some army had 
cast up earthworks at this bend of the river as a pro- 
tection, from an enemy coming either up or down the 
river. 

"I was after that deer, so I did not wait to examine 
the old fort more closely. My trail led northward from 
there, and when I had gone about two miles, reaching 
that big hill we have so often seen in the distance, I 
had my second surprise. I was approaching the hill 
from the west, as I had lost track of the deer I had 
been following, and had turned for home. On that 
side the hill was so nearly straight up and down 
that a fellow would have a hard time in getting to the 
top. I thought I might as well see the other side of 
the hill; perhaps I might find a place there where I 
could climb up and look over the country. Sure 
enough, there was a place where I could clamber to 
the top. This, the east side, was covered with timber, 
oak and basswood being mixed with the pine trees. 
As I looked up at the top the hill took on the funniest 
appearance; something like a big squat bottle with a 
rim around its month and a cork stuck in. 

"I scrambled up. About two-thirds from the bot- 



THE MOUNDBUILDEBS 105 

torn I came to the rim of the bottle — the obstruction, 
whatever it was. With considerable difficulty I got 
up and over. It was plainly another case of fortify- 
ing — this time a hill instead of a river. The earth had 
been scraped away to the solid sandstone rock beneath, 
and brought forward into a ridge clear across the face 
of the hill. A thousand soldiers would have been safe 
behind that embankment on that side of the hill, from 
even the missiles of a modern army." 

"Well, son," replied Mr. Allen, "your finds are cer- 
tainly interesting. They are undoubtedly the work 
of the moundbuilders. We must examine them some 
day, and perhaps may find something that will tell us 
of their story." 

"But, father," asked Rob, "who were the mound- 
builders? and when did they live here? and who was it 
that was after them?" 

"You have asked some hard questions, my boy. 
The scientists have guessed and guessed again. The 
earthworks they reared are really all we know about 
them. The Indians have no traditions concerning 
them." 

"But, father," persisted Ed, "what became of them? 
Did they kill each other off, or did they all die of some 
great epidemic?" 

"As I said, son. these are questions which can only 
receive conjectures for answer. It may be that they 
Avere the descendants of some roving tribe that came 
over from Asia by the way of the Behring Strait, 
after the Lord scattered the people abroad from the 



106 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

plains of Shinar. They may have continued their mi- 
grations southward before some later horde from the 
Old World, and become the ancestors of the cliff- 
dwellers of Arizona, or the Toltecs and Aztecs of 
Mexico and Yucatan. 

"However, it is evident that the moundbuilders 
were in possession of a much less degree of civilization 
than the prehistoric ancestors of the South Mexicans, 
for the moundbuilders have left nothing but their 
earthworks, while the ruined cities and temples of the 
ancient ancestors of the Toltecs and Aztecs show a 
civilization that must have rivalled that of old Egypt, 
or even famous Babylon itself." 

"Is it about the moundbuilders you are speaking, 
Mr. Allen?" enquired Dauphin Thompson, who had 
just come in. "If you can spare the time some day I 
would like to take you to what seems to have been a 
town laid out by those old fellows. It is about four 
miles south, and I suppose half way between the 
Necedah and the Wisconsin rivers. I came across it 
last fall when hunting our cattle that had strayed over 
on that side of the river. I confess that the strange- 
ness of it — like some great graveyard of giants, made 
me feel a little creepy, in the twilight. I did pluck up 
courage, though, to ride my pony to the top of what 
appeared to be the large central mound and look about. 

"In the fading light that filtered through the trees I 
could not see well nor very far, but the mounds seemed 
to extend for several rods each way. They were laid 
off in regular lines, north and south, and east and 



THE MOUNDBUILDERS 107 

west in what seemed to be a perfect square. There 
must have been fifty or perhaps more, of the mounds. 
They were not all of the same size, although they may 
have once been — save the mound which I had ridden 
upon ; that was as large as three or four of the others. 
I asked my young Menominee friend, Kalichigoogah. 
about them once, but he looked scared and wouldn't 
talk. All he would say was 'No know, me. Big medi- 
cine. White boy keep away.' " 

"I understand," said Mr. Allen, "the feeling our 
Indians have for such objects and places. The mys- 
terious to them is sacred. It is their religion to wor- 
ship or give tribute and offerings to whatever they 
can not understand. I have read that from the earli- 
est times certain tribes of Indians have used these 
mounds as burial places for their own dead, so great 
a reverence had they for them. 

"Indeed, in some of the accounts given by the 
followers of La Salle, or Marquette, or Hennepin, I 
do not recall which, it is stated that near the junction 
of the Fox and Wolf rivers in this state, they came 
upon several large mounds of this kind. These voy- 
ageurs, ever greedy of the gold supposed to be hidden 
away in the New World, dug into them. But instead 
of the coveted treasure, they found a few simple trink- 
ets,, and very many human bones. So they gave the 
place the name of Buttes des Mort, "mounds of the 
dead." 

"But, father, isn't there anyone who can tell us 
about these people?" demanded Ed. "I want to know 



108 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

why they made those breastworks on the bend of the 
old river, and why they went up to that hill and made 
a fort. Who was it that was after them? and which 
side won? Were they hunters? or did they plant 
crops? What kind of houses did they live in? and 
what did they look like? 1 ' 

"My dear boy, if I could answer those questions 
correctly at this moment, I would suddenly find my- 
self one of the famous men of the country. As I have 
said, this departed race has left but little to tell of 
its existence, but that little the scientists are taking, 
and by comparison and deduction, may finally build 
up a plausible story. 

"It would be something like the work done b}^ a 
famous naturalist who, it is said, from a single fossil 
bone of an extinct fish, that had been found, constructed 
its probable framework entire. Years afterwards the 
whole skeleton of this rare, ancient fish was dug up, 
and the professor's guess found to be marvellously 
near the truth. 

"While there are a few indications of the mound- 
builders west of the Rockies and east of the Alle- 
ghanies, they seem to have inhabited the Mississippi 
valley, the mounds being most numerous in the states 
of Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, and Ohio. Indeed, 
there were so many in the vicinity of the city of St. 
Louis, that place was nicknamed 'Mound City.' 

"While their civilization seems to have far exceeded 
that of our present race of Indians, there is also indi- 
cation that they lived in constant menace of some other, 



THE MOUNDBUILDEKS 



109 



more warlike people. As we go eastward toward the 
Alleghanies we find the mounds grow more defensive 
in their characteristics. 

"One of the finest specimens of these defensive <■■ n- 
structions is known as 'Fort Ancient, 1 and is near the 
Little Miami river, in Ohio. It is on the top of a steep 
hill, its stiff clay walls ranging from five to twenty- 
five feet in height. The wall crooks and turns and 
twists about, until it is several miles in length, yet it 
encloses only land enough for a common-sized farm. 

"At Chillicothe there is the largest of this kind of 
mounds, embracing 145 acres. In connection with this 
old fortress there are several high mounds which may 
have been used for lookout stations. 

"As a rule, the mounds in the valleys are not of the 
warlike shapes, but are laid off in squares or octagons, 
like the little "towir Dauphin has told us about on 
the other side of the river. These are usually called 
"sacred" mounds, though it would be difficult to give 
a good reason why, other than the Indians' reverence 
for that which is mysterious and unexplained. Per- 
haps the best known example of this class of mounds 
are those at Newark, Ohio. There is an octagon of 50 
acres, a square of 35 acres, and two circles, one of 29 
and the other of 20 acres. They are all joined by 
avenues and surrounded by ditches. 

"The temple mounds are fewer in number than 
those of the other classes, but may, in the future, prove 
to yield more interest ;is they are compared with sim- 
ilar pyramids found in Mexico and Central America. 



110 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

In this country, the best specimen of the temple 
mounds is at Cahokia, Ills. It is nearly an hundred 
feet high, and is more than 200 rods around the base. 

"Perhaps the most curious of the work of the an- 
cient people are the 'animal' mounds, fashioned after a 
crude representation of different beasts. One of these 
in the southern part of this state is a very fair repro- 
duction of the outlines of an elephant." 

"But, father," exclaimed Ed, "how could that be? 
Where could these people have seen an elephant? Did 
elephants live in America then? or did the people 
come from the land of elephants?" 

"My boy, that is a part of the mystery of the past 
of this mysterious race. The fact is that the Grant 
county mound was clearly made to represent an ele- 
phant, and the rest we must guess at. 

"However, the larger number of mounds that have 
been examined were used for burial places, undoubted- 
ly first by the moundbuilders themselves, as well as 
later by the Indians." 

That night the boys could scarcely sleep for plan- 
ning excavations in all three of the collections of 
mounds near them. Mr. Allen had hinted that some 
day some mound might be uncovered which would 
yield the long-looked-for key that would unlock the 
history of this past and forgotten people. Why might 
not it be they who would be the discoverers ? 

Ed was for making the first investigation at the 
hill fort. If there had been an assault upon those 
works, he argued, it must have been a fierce one, and no 



THE MOUNDBUILDEBS 111 

doubt there would be found many of the weapons of 
the attacking party buried in the soft earth beneath 
the steep walls. Rob contended that if the mounds 
between the rivers were, indeed, the site of one of 
their towns, more relics would be found there to show 
what manner of people they were in their everyday 
life. Especially would it be so, he argued, if they had 
been suddenly driven from their homes by an enemy. 

"You remember, Ed, when Captain Hunt and his 
soldiers came after the Winnebagoes and they left their 
camps in a hurry, they first buried many of their 
household utensils in the ground. You know how they 
then smoothed down the earth and built a fire over the 
place, so that the ashes and coals would give the ground 
an appearance of not having been disturbed. I imag- 
ine we may find some such caches in that mound vil- 
lage." 

Necessary work interfered with the boys' plans for 
several weeks, and the first flakes of late October snow 
were falling when they set off upon their ten miles' 
walk to the mound city. 

After some discussion they decided to attack the 
largest, central mound first, "For," said Dauphin, "this 
must have been the mound of the chief, if these mounds 
were the sites of their homes." 

Carefully they dug a hole six feet across, searching 
carefully through each spadeful of dirt. In the first 
two feet down there was nothing discovered; then Ed 
ran across two long, flint arrow- or spear-heads. A lit- 
tle further down they came upon a human skeleton, 



112 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

the bones of which crumbled so badly, as they were 
brought out to the air, that the boys were able to save 
only the top of the skull and one thigh bone intact. 

It was only when they reached the depth of about 
four feet, nearly at the lev-el of the surrounding ground, 
that their spades struck unmistakable eivdences of fire 
— discolored earth, small coals, ashes, and some brown 
fragments, the nature of which they could not at once 
determine. "We have found it, Hurray!'' shouted 
Rob. "They cached their goods and built their fire 
over them just like our Indians did." 

"Now, boys," counseled Dauphin, "let's not be too 
hasty. Let's examine every spadeful carefully as we 

Now the finds became more numerous : A stone mor- 
tar and pestle, such as the Indians now use for pre- 
paring their meal from maize; a red, stone pipe, 
curiously carved; several pure white arrow-heads, oth- 
ers coal-black; a stone axe, grooved near the head for 
its fastening to the handle ; some broken earthenware 
vessels, decorated with queer, spear-point designs; and 
most valuable of all, a copper knife in fairly good state 
of preservation. 

Then they came to a great quantity of brown frag- 
ments, which upon examination, proved to be charred 
bone. 

Down through the burned earth they dug in fever- 
ish haste toward the treasure they believed to be hid- 
den there. But alas! although they toiled until dark, 
they were forced to acknowledge to themselves that 



THE MOUNDBUILDEES 



113 



the ground beneath the fire had never been disturbed 
before. 

"Well," said Ed, "We didn't find the 'key' to un- 
lock the history of these mounds, but we've got one of 
the old fellows, with some of his dishes, his axe, his 
pipe, his spears and arrows, and his wife's grist mill. 
That's pretty good for one day." 

And indeed it was, although the skeleton proved, 
according to the decision of the professor of science at 
Carleton College, for whose inspection the boys sent 
the relics, to be that of a modern Indian, who had 
been buried probably not over an hundred years. He 
also wrote the boys that of the various things they had 
dug up, only the broken pottery could with probability 
be assigned to the time of the moundbuilders. He 
added, however, that the large amount of fragments 
of burned bones went to confirm the theory that the 
mounds of that class had been used as places in which 
human bodies had been burned, either in sepulture 
or sacrificial rites. 

Other excavations were planned by the boys, but 
the strenuous duties of their pioneer life crowded in 
upon them, and the trips were put off from time to 
time, until it so came about that their first explora- 
tion into the affairs of the lost race, proved to be 
their last. 



CHAPTER XIII 
COOKING IN CAMP 

As Robert and Ed Allen had no elder sisters, and 
the health of their mother was far from robust, they 
were early trained to the simple duties of the home. 
Rob, especially, prided himself that "there was no 
woman who could beat him in plain cooking," and, in- 
deed, his bread was voted, even by Mr. Allen, to be "al- 
most as good as Mother's." 

As the frosts began to increase, and November 
clouds hung gray and heavy, tote teams, with their 
winter supplies for the camps in the big woods, would 
frequently stop at Mr. Thompson's for the night. With 
one of these outfits there was a crew of twenty men 
with their cook, bound for the upper waters of the 
Wisconsin river to get out a special contract of "pump- 
kin pine," a good sized tract of these forest giants 
having been located during the previous summer. This 
variety of pine was very white, exceedingly soft, and 
grainless, and not infrequently would yield three cuts 
of logs of sixteen feet each in length, entirely free from 
knots. These logs would saw into planks sixteen feet 
long, with a width of from three to six feet. Of course 
such timber was very valuable, even in those days of 
timber prodigality. 

The Allen boys heard that the crew boss was young 
114 



COOKING IN CAMP 115 

Medford, whom they had met in Necedah. He was a 
clean, energetic young fellow, just out of college, and, 
destined to take his father's place in the great lumber- 
ing operations of the state, was winning his way up 
in practical service. But this morning, while his greet- 
ing was pleasant, young Medford's face showed a con- 
siderable anxiety to the boys. Pete Latour, the cook, 
while wholly dependable once within the big woods, 
had broken faith with the boss, and had smuggled a 
flask of whiskey in with his dunnage. During this, 
their first night's stop, the liquor had provoked a 
brawl in which the cook emerged with a broken arm. 
After the rude surgery that he was able to give, Mr. 
Thompson would take him back to the town for a 
month's lay up. But there was no one else among the 
crew who could take his place, and no time to send a 
team back to hunt a cook in town. 

"Rob," said Ed, "you're always bragging about 
your cooking, why don't you take the job?" 

"What's that?" exclaimed Medford, overhearing 
what had been spoken in jest, "Can you cook, Rob?" 

"He certainly can, Mr. Medford," replied Ed, not 
waiting for Rob to reply, "He can beat Mother baking 
beans, and as for bread — " 

"Stop your foolishness, Ed," broke in Rob, blush- 
ing red. 

"But see here, boys, I must have a cook, and if you 
will take the place, Rob, I will give you forty-five 
dollars a month for four months, and your wages will 
begin today." 



116 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

Rob gasped at the thought of so much money. 
"I'll see father" he replied. 

Mrs. Allen was averse to allowing her boy to spend 
the winter among such rough men as the woods crews 
were known to be, but Mr. Allen said it would "toughen 
the fiber of the lad" and gave his consent. 

Alas, how many parents mistakenly think that as- 
sociation with evil, and even evil experiences are a 
necessary part of the education of youth. Nothing can 
be further from the truth. Instead of a benefit, such 
association can but result in harm. If, in after life, 
the youth should come into clean ways, the deep scars 
of evil will remain, and he will carry with him to the 
grave that which he would fain forget. 

For the first fifty miles the crew were able to get 
their meals at least twice a day at rough wayside tav- 
erns, themselves but little better than camps, but which 
afforded shelter and an abundance of food, such as it 
was. Then the trail led up into the unbroken wilder- 
ness of forest, where camps must needs be made at 
night, and there Rob's winter work began. 

There was something solemn and majestic about the 
big woods. There was little undergrowth, and the 
ground was covered deep with the rich, brown carpet 
of needles. The tall trunks of the great pines rose 
straight to the dark canopy above, like the pillars of 
some vast cathedral. The very silence was suggestive 
of worship — the low moaning of the high-up tops came 
to the ears as a soft, opening, minor strain from some 
grand organ. 



COOKING IN CAMP 117 

A dead, dry pine was felled, logs sawed from it 
and split, a fire built, and soon a bed of glowing coals 
was ready for the great pans of frying salt pork. 
Two crotched sticks were driven into the ground a 
few feet apart, and a pole laid across them, upon which 
the big coffee kettle was swung, and under it a good 
fire was soon going. Then biscuit dough was mixed— 
not with milk, but with clear, cold water from the 
river — and placed in the baker. This arrangement was 
something like a three-leaved book made of tin, with 
folding legs for the upper and lower leaves. When 
opened before the bed of glowing coals — the bread be- 
ing placed upon the middle leaf — it was a no mean sub- 
stitute for an oven. 

Tin plates and cups, iron knives and forks and 
spoons, were distributed; a jug of molasses and a bowl 
of brown sugar were placed handy, and the cry of 
"Chuck's ready!" was given. Not very appetizing! 
— perhaps not to you, my reader, but with these hardy 
men, living out of doors, at strenuous labor, bread and 
meat and strong coffee, with plenty of fats and sweets 
to fortify against the bitter cold, were eagerly con- 
sumed, especially when on the march. Later, when 
in permanent camp, a greater variety of food would be 
prepared. 

Wearied though he was with the long day's tramp, 
and with his efforts to satisfy the ravenous appetites 
of the score of men, Rob could not roll up in his blanket 
before the fire with the rest, as they finished their 
meal. In a little hollow scooped out near the log fire, 



118 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

were to be placed a half bushel of Irish potatoes, with 
a jab of his knife through the skin of each one to let 
out the steam. Over them the hot ashes were raked and 
packed down tight, then a few coals, and here they 
would bake slowly through the night, to be eaten in 
their mealy whiteness, cold, with salt, at the hasty 
noon meal the next day. The coffee kettle was re- 
placed by another containing great chunks of corned 
beef, and from the baker came several batches of deli- 
cately browned biscuit to be packed away in a box 
for the morrow. There would be no time allowed at 
the noon rest for more than the preparing of the hot 
coffee. 

It seemed to the lad that he had no more than 
closed his eyes, as he finally rolled himself into his 
blanket — his boots under his head for pillow— than 
he found himself sitting up, panting for breath, as 
though exhausted by running, and trembling all over. 
Clearly he had been frightened in his sleep; but by 
what? The horses, securely tied near by, were snort- 
ing and frantically trying to break away. The men, 
here and there, were rising upon elbows. Then, from 
the tall pine, seemingly right over their heads, came the 
scream as of a woman in such agony, despair, and 
heart-breaking entreaty, that it seemed to Rob nothing 
in all the world could express more hopeless misery. 
With a "Sh-h, keep quiet, boys," Mr. Medford grasped 
his Winchester and slipped around to quiet the horses, 
peering up into the thick branches as he went. Again 



COOKING IN CAMP 119 

that hideous cry — and Mr. Medford fired at the place 
from which the sound seemed to come. 

"What is it?" whispered Bob to teamster Jackson, 
next him. 

"A painter [panther]. There is no danger. Lie 
still." 

There was the noise of something bounding from 
limb to limb, high up in the pines, then all was still. 

Exhausted, though he was, with the day's march 
and labor, Rob was so thoroughly awakened, that long 
after the quieted teams were again munching their 
corn, and the men were snoring, he lay, looking up at 
the one far-away star peeping through the boughs, and 
starting up now and then as a soft pad-pad, or sniff- 
sniff, or low growl, or bark, announced the presence of 
some other visiting woods-folk. 

When at last they had reached the timber tract, a 
little knoll not far back from the river, was selected 
as the site for the permanent camps. These would be 
three in number — the main building where the men 
would sleep and eat, and one end of which would serve 
as kitchen; a second for the snug stable for the teams; 
and the third to be used as repair shop and storehouse. 
All hands went to work at once putting up the 
houses. It was now the second week of November, and 
the fierce winter storms might be looked for at any 
time. The buildings were constructed of logs, about 
twelve inches in diameter, the cracks between chinked 
in with moss and clay. The roof was made of split 
logs, the split faces being laid together, breaking the 



120 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

joints. There was always plenty of chance for ventila- 
tion. After the roaring fires in the sheet iron stoves 
should finally succeed in drying them out, these rooms 
would be warm and comfortable. 

For nearly a week, during the house-building, the 
men slept in. tents which opened one end toward the 
big log fire. At this fire also, with its undiminished 
abundance of live coals, Rob baked and boiled and 
roasted. Now that there was to be no more traveling, 
the supplies were overhauled, and great dishes of dried 
fruit — prunes, peaches, and apples, were stewed. Later, 
Mr. Medford would have a team bring in fresh beef 
and pork. Pea soup, hot, and rich with pork fat, was 
an almost daily ration, and then the great staple — 
baked beans ! Lucky for Rob, indeed, was that accom- 
plishment of which Ed had boasted for him. Surely 
even Boston itself never knew such appetizing dish as 
that Rob brought forth from the "bean hole." 

This is the way in which the delicacy was prepared : 
First, a hole two feet in depth, filled with live coals; 
the big pot with just the right amount of beans — (be 
careful to not put in too man} 7 , or you will duplicate 
Mark Twain's experience with dried apples), molasses, 
a chunk of fat pork, salt and pepper to season — then 
water enough to swell the dish full when done (a few 
disastrous experiments will teach you the right 
amount), then the coals raked out and the pot, tightly 
covered, placed in the hole; ashes packed around and 
over; more live coals heaped above all — and every- 



COOKING IN CAMP 121 

body go away and forget it for twenty-four hours — 
if you can — and then ! 

Bread, potatoes, meat, coffee, some kind of dried 
fruit — and beans — such is the usual fare of the lumber 
woods. 

With the completion of the camps, Eob found his 
duties a little more complicated, but he was able to 
arrange his long hours so that, while work was hard, 
he had the meals on time, well-cooked, and of abundant 
quantity. At four o'clock in the morning the chopping 
boss would call "Cookee!" and Eob would crawl out 
from his "feather bed" of pine boughs covered with 
its heavy Mackinaw blanket. No time to roll over and 
take the "forty winks" these mornings. Soon he would 
have the pitch-pine roaring in the big sheet-iron stove 
for the men; then he would cross over to the kitchen 
side, where the fire in the great range would set to 
steaming the big pots of food. By the time the hot 
biscuits were ready, the teamsters would be in from 
the stables, where they had fed, curried and harnessed 
the horses, and the choppers and skidders would be 
plunging through a hasty toilet. By five o'clock Eob 
would cry, "All ready!" and then would come a rush, 
each man crowding in where he could and more like 
a pack of hungry wolves than supposedly civilized 
men, the crew would fall upon the food. 

I must make one exception — a teamster who was 
early dubbed "Parson." This man, a little past middle 
age, never sat down to a meal without silently bowing 
his head in thanksgiving. There was no spirit of 



122 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

bravado in the act ; cant seemed to be impossible to the 
man. He took the ofttimes brutal gibes of the men 
with a kindly smile, and went his own way. At night 
when the lanterns were swung from the ridgepole, and 
the men, during the hour between supper and bed, 
would be playing cards, telling stories, or singing songs 
of their wood and river life, Mr. Jackson would take 
out a well-worn, black Testament and read, and then, 
with always a kind word to Rob, and often some little 
helpful act, would climb into his bunk. 

Breakfast over, Rob had the bunks to put in order, 
and the house to thoroughly sweep — for Mr. Medford's 
camps must be kept clean and tidy. Then, if the crew 
happened to be working at a considerable distance, din- 
ner must be put on at once, for an hour before noon a 
team would be sent in for it, and it must be ready, 
safely packed in large, tightly covered cans. What a 
job it was to get an out-of-doors dinner for twenty 
hungry woodsmen ! Actually, one of those men would 
often eat at a meal as much as would be placed upon 
the table for a half dozen in the city broading house. 

Dishes washed and the table set, the sponge, started 
the night before, for sixteen loaves of bread (for it 
would take this number daily, in addition to hot bis- 
cuits), would be kneaded down and placed in a warm 
place to rise. Then there was the woodpile to tackle, 
and a big stack of dry pine and birch cut and piled up 
for both cook stove and heater. If dinner was to be 
eaten at the camp, there were a half-dozen pies to be 
made from the dried fruit, or two great pans of pud- 



COOKING IN CAMP 12o 

ding to be baked, before the sixteen loaves of bread 
would demand the oven. Peeling- potatoes and turnips, 
and giving attention to the bean-hole outside, helped to 
fill to the full' every moment of the forenoon. 

After dinner dishes were attended to, there came a 
chance for two hours of sleep — and insomnia, at this 
time, was not even a passing acquaintance of Rob's. At 
four o'clock preparations for supper must begin. Then 
serving the meal, washing dishes again, and making 
ready, as far as possible, for the morning meal, filled 
the time until ten o'clock. 

It is not good for man to be alone. Explorers of 
the polar regions declare that the terrors of that track- 
less waste are not found in the intense cold, but that 
it is the awfulness of solitude, driving men insane, that 
is most dreaded. 

A strange malady of peevishness, discontent, de- 
veloping into downright meanness, seems to creep over 
a company of men shut in together for a lengthened 
time. Seamen on long voyages mutiny; soldiers in 
isolated barracks commit ugly acts of insubordination, 
or take desperate chances to desert. 

So it is not strange that during the long winters, 
when a score of men are shut up together with little 
or no reading matter, no news from the outside world 
— nothing to take their thoughts away from themselves, 
or break the deadly monotony of their daily lives, 
that this untoward trait of human nature should show 
itself. Usually, before spring comes, the ill-nature of a 
crew settles upon some particular one, and from be- 



124 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

coming at first the butt of good natured jokes, he finally 
is the object of genuine persecution. "Woe be to that 
one if he be weak in body or in mind, or if he be a 
boy. 

It was perhaps natural that this crew, all un- 
awakened to and untrained in the higher sensibilities 
and ideals of life, and hardened by much gross sin, 
should fall upon the teamster Jackson, who was so 
unfailing in his religious observances. He seemed out 
of place to them; his very presence was a rebuke to 
their profanity and foul stories and songs, even more 
so than the sharp command of young Med'ford, that 
occasionally brought them to silence. But to all of 
the chaffing and sneers and cursing Jackson pre- 
sented a quiet, even temper, and his smile held a world 
of pity. As Jackson's kindness to Eob became noticed, 
it appeared to the crew that here was a way by which 
they could reach the teamster, and all the devilish an- 
noyances and coarse brutality of a dozen man were di- 
rected against the boy. They began by growling about 
the "weak" coffee, although, as swamper Flynn said, 
"Sure, 'tis as black as me hat, and 'twould float me 
iron wedge, entirely." The bread was "no good/' the 
meat was "tough." Day after day, Eob, having pre- 
pared a meal that would do credit to a high-priced 
hotel, would be reduced almost to tears through mor- 
tification, by the brutal complaints. That Jackson 
stood up for the lad, and told the rude fellows that by 
their grumbling they showed they had not been ac- 
customed to good food at home, did not help matters. 



COOKING IN CAMP 125 

From complaints, the persecution passed to per- 
sonal annoyances. Rob's axe would be hidden, and he 
compelled to gather dry limbs to keep the fire going; 
one morning he found after the breakfast had been de- 
layed and the bunk house filled with smoke, that the 
stovepipe had been filled with moss. At another time, 
his wool socks and felt boots disappeared, and he was 
compelled to go about all day in bare feet. Again, 
as he crawled into his bunk late one night, worn out, 
he found that the blanket and boughs had all been 
saturated with water, and he slept upon the hard floor 
in his overcoat. 

At last, the ringleader in the meanness, John Dolve, 
a big Swede, coming in at night and not finding sup- 
per upon the table, although it was not yet time, de- 
clared he would fix it so that the boss would have to 
get another cook. 

"Come on, boys," he cried, "he's too fresh. Let's 
put him in pickle." With the help of two or three of 
the others, he lifted the struggling lad and forced him 
down into one of the big barrels half filled with brine, 
from which the meat had been taken, and fastened on 
the cover. The rough men roared with laughter over 
the "good joke on the cook," but the result might have 
been altogether serious had not Mr. Jackson oppor- 
tunely arrived. With face gone white, as they ex- 
plained the situation to him, he thrust the men right 
and left, and liberated the poor boy. 

"Now, Bob," said he, as he fitted the boy out in 
some of his own warm, dry clothing, "just keep your- 



126 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

self quiet ; that's the best way. Mr. Medf ord is due to 
be back from below and when he comes there will be a 
change in this camp for good." 

But Robert had not yet found that source of inner 
strength which kept the teamster undisturbed in the 
midst of fiery, trial. The boy had reached the limit of 
human endurance. He kept his own counsel, but de- 
termined to submit no longer to such indignities. He 
would start for home that very night. That the way 
lay an hundred miles through what was practically a 
wilderness, mattered not. No fear of hunger nor cold, 
nor death itself, should keep him in the camp one day 
longer. 

Mr. Medford, urging on his team the next day, in 
order to reach camp in good season, caught sight of a 
figure staggering along the tote road in the distance. 
At first he took it to be an Indian, but as he drew 
nearer there was something that appeared familiar 
about the person. What was his surprise as he came 
close, to discover that the traveler was Rob. 

The lad was so nearly exhausted that he could 
scarcely speak, yet he endeavored to resist, as Mr. Med- 
ford, springing to him where he had sunk down in the 
snow, picked him up in his arms and placed him in the 
sleigh. More from what he guessed, than what he was 
able to get from Rob, did he get an idea of what had 
occurred. 

"Now, young fellow," said he, "we're going back; 
it's the only thing to do. You've good stuff in you, 



COOKING IN CAMP 127 

although the battle has been a severe one, and now I'll 
see about bringing up the reserves." 

With the first out-going tote team went the brutal 
Dolve and two of his companions, and soon there came 
a change in the atmosphere of the camp, and the at- 
titude of the men toward the cook was as friendly and 
appreciative as formerly it had been unjust and cruel. 

Rob made good in his work, and the hearty com- 
mendation of Mr. Medford was as precious balm to 
heal his wounded spirit. When the four months were 
passed, and the camp broke up for the spring, the 
heart of the lad glowed with pleasure as Mr. Medford, 
handing him a check for two hundred dollars, said, 
"The extra is because you've been a extra good cook. 
If you'll agree, I'll sign you now for next winter at 
sixty-five dollars." 

Two hundred dollars meant much to the Allen fam- 
ily that spring, for by it the mother was enabled to go 
to Chicago for treatment by a famous specialist, who 
said she had come just in time. 



CHAPTER XIV 

WINTER IN THE LUMBER WOODS 

When Mr. Thompson proposed, as an act of kind- 
ness, to take the cook, Peter Lateur, back to Necedah 
that he might receive proper attention for his broken 
arm, he did not know that it would prove to be an 
opening to a profitable winter's contract, but so it was. 

As he stepped into the office of the Medford Lum- 
ber Company, "Old Man" Medford, who was in ear- 
nest conversation with a keen-eyed, brisk- appearing 
gentleman, looked up, and as his eyes fell upon Mr. 
Thompson, he exclaimed, "The very thing. Here's 
the man, Mr. Norman, that can do the job." Mr. Nor- 
man, this is Mr. Thompson, one of the up-river set- 
tlers. Mr. Norman is at the head of the Construction 
Company that has a contract to build the grade and 
bridges of the new railroad that is coming into town 
next summer," was Mr. Medford's form of introduc- 
tion. 

"The lay of the land is such," went on Mr. Medford, 
"that the road must cross the head of the big boom 
pond, and that calls for a long trestle. I've been tell- 
ing him that our regular crews have all gone into the 
woods, and we can't get out the piling he wants, this 
season; but he insists that he going to have that tim- 

128 



WINTER IN THE LUMBER WOODS 129 

ber on the bank of the river to come down in the spring 
drive. Now what do you think of such a man?" 

"I think he means to get his work done," replied 
Mr. Thompson. 

The big man's eyes twinkled. "I may have to pay 
a little extra, of course, but I shall see that piling down 
here in the boom by the time my bridge builders are 
ready for them." 

Mr. Medford's company (.wind a tract of young 
timber over which a fire had swept, and, while its thick 
growth had worked its ruin in that the trees had been 
killed, the trunks had not been destroyed, but stood 
tall and straight, and, if cut before the borers got in 
their destructive work, would make ideal piling timber. 

The opportunity for securing a good price for this 
otherwise useless timber, as well as his confidence in 
Mr. Thompson, urged the lumberman to give bond for 
him that the required number and lengths of piling 
would be deposited upon the banks of the river in time 
for the spring drive. 

By offering the extra high wages, which a success- 
ful completion of his contract would enable him to do, 
Mr. Thompson picked up a crew among the settlers 
along the river. Among them was Ed Allen, who, 
hardy and strong for his age, was well able to fulfill 
the duties of "swamper." 

As the contract would call but for one winter's 
work, the camp houses were not so elaborate and sub- 
stantial as those of the big woods further north, j^et 
they were made fairly comfortable. After the cabins 



130 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

were up, th( first thing was to lay out the main logging 
road from the- tract of til the river. While the 

road must be as direct as possible, it was necessary 
that the route selected keep to level ground. There 
could be no going up hill and down dale with the great 
stack-like loads which would pass over it. 

By the time the hollows were filled, the trees cut 
away,, and their stumps i\\\>z out, and even the small 
brush cut. so that a clear, level track extended 
all the way to (he river, the foreman had selected a 
number of trees of the required length and diameter^ 
and marked them with a "blaze" on the side. 

Sites were chosen for the skidways upon little 
knolls, where the logs would be rolled up in great piles, 
haded upon the sleds. 

And the chopping began. 
The success or failure of a lumberman in the north- 
ern woods depended as much upon the weather con- 
ditions, as does the success or failure of the farmer. 
Long-continued and severe storms may shut in the 
crew for a week of -precious time. Great snows may 
double the labor of swamping, skidding, and loading. 
But more to be dreaded by the loggers is a winter 
thaw. A mild winter, when the snow melts in the mid- 
dle of the day, is, io the logger, as a rainless summer 
to the husbandman. 

With this contract it was not a matter of how many 
of the logs might be hauled to the river, but a question 
whether the whole number was delivered. So every 
hour would count; every advantage of the peculiarities 



WINTER IN THE LUMBER MOODS l."l 

of the weather must be taken. b< th in felling the I 
and in hauling. 

It seemed to Ed that he would barely stretch him- 
self in his bunk at night before he would hear the 
foreman's "All out" in the morning-, and with the (-til- 
ers he would hasten into his mackinaws and felt b 
his sleep-heavy eves hardly open before their plunge 
into the icy water, as the cry "Chuck's ready,'" would 
be heard from the cook. 

As soon as one could "see to swing an a crew 

would be in the timber tract, ready for the stren 
labor of the day. What matter i ould 

register zero, and the snow lay knee deep on the level? 
did not their pulses bound with the rich wine of life? 
was nol the very air a tonic':' and the hard work filled 
with the joy of achievement? 

From about the tree selected the ould 

be carefully cut away, for not only r. re be free 

room for the rythmic swing of the keen axes-, but the 
life of a chopper often depended ick, unhin- 

dered leap to one side, as the forest giant sprang. 

iging from its stump. The inclination of th; 
is noted, and the place selected for its fall. The sharp 
bits of the axes eat a clean "scarf" straight across the 
trunk. A few inches higher up. a I cut prepares 

for great chips between, and a third drives the scarf 
beyond the center of the tree. A shallower cut on the 
opposite side of the trunk, a snap, a creaking shudder 
— a.quick warning is called; there is a sound ol 
branches overhead, the rush of a mighty wind, and 



132 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

then a crashing roar as the great body stretches its 
length upon the ground. 

With a rapid movement the woodsman measures 
with his axe helve the prostrate trunk up to the point 
where length calls for certain diameter, and the saw- 
yers, having already squared the butt are ready to 
sever the top. What limbs there are upon the body 
are cut cleanly away, and the long log, or pile, is ready 
for the skids. 

In that day the "swamping" was done by ox teams. 
It was the work of the swamper to see that there was 
a clear pathway for the team to the fallen trunk, then, 
as it came alongside, to slip the heavy logging chain 
under the body, and bring it up and clasp the 
hook. At the word of command — and often cruel 
proddings with sharp goads accompanied, alas! by 
the shocking profanity of the driver, the ani- 
mals would brace themselves into the yoke, strain- 
ing this way and that, until finally the great log 
would be started from its bed in the deep snow and 
dragged to its place to be rolled with others upon the 
leading skids. The stacking up of these piles was work 
that could often be done when hauling operations were 
impossible. However, the hauling was not a less in- 
teresting part of the work. 

The logging sled, or "hoosier," bears about the same 
relation to the common road sled that a Missouri river 
barge bears to a pleasure skiff. It is hewn from the 
toughest beams of oak, and its huge runners — tracking 
six feet apart — are shod with plates of iron three to 



WINTER IN THE LUMBER WOODS 133 

four inches in thickness. The beams, or "bunks," upon 
which the load will rest, are often ten feet long, so 
that the loads may be of that width, and as high as the 
lifting power of the loading teams and the ingenuity 
of the men can stack the logs — provided always suf- 
ficient power can be attached to the load to pull it. 

From the main road to the skids, a temporary road 
is packed down in the snow, and the huge sled is 
brought into position below the skids. Timbers are run 
to the bunks and securely fastened, for a slip may 
mean a broken rib, or possibly a life quickly crushed 
out. A chain is fastened to the top log of the skid 
with a rolling hitch, and the loading team on the other 
side of the sled, across from the skid, slowly rolls the 
great trunk from the pile onto the sled. The first 
tier of logs fills the bunks; a second tier, or perhaps a 
third, is rolled into place, and the load is fastened se- 
curely with the binding chains and pole. Then the 
loading team is hitched on ahead of the sled team, and 
with great pulling and tugging the mammoth load is 
brought to the main road. Here the head team is re- 
leased, to repeat the process of loading for the next 
team, while the load continues its journey to the river. 

So level and so smooth is the track that compar- 
atively little force is needed to move these immense 
loads — but they must be kept in motion. There can 
be no stopping to rest once the load is started, for it 
is probable, in that case, the sled would remain at rest 
until a second team would come along to add its 
strength for another start. 



134 BOYS (IF THE OLD SEA BED 

Arriving at the river, the "brow boss" measures 
each log, entering the figures in his "brow record," 
giving also the totals of the loads and name of driver. 
Then each log is "end marked" and with can! hooks 
rolled off into the river, or "browed," as the operation 
is called. Often the river bed is filled and piled high 
from bank to bank; then a new brow is selected up or 
down stream. 

The second Aveek of chopping, which brought the 
time up to Christmas, saw the contract well under 
way. While four or five nationalities were represented 
in the crew, the men were of that class which came 
into the wilderness to make homes — faithful, steady, 
and willing to give full measure of service for their 
s. In many respects they differed widely from the 
"big woods" crew, gathered, as they might be in those 
day.-, from the very riff-raff of creation. 

A spirit of friendly rivalry was shrewdly fostered 
by the foreman, among the choppers and the teamsters, 
which Avas not long in dividing the camp into factions 
loyally supporting the claims of their respective cham- 
pions. Antoine Ravenstein's half-Norman dapple 
greys had. so far. a slight lead in the record of big- 
loads over Bert Clumpner's bays, while the giant Dane. 
Olaf Bergstrom, was scarcely able to keep even with 
his .smaller, wiry, dark-skinned rival chopper. Jim 
Dacora. 

The work was now so well under way thai 
Thompson suggested that the men celebrate Christ- 
mas day in holding a holiday of sports, and he 



WINTER IN THE LUMBER WOODS 135 

would have the cook prepare a big dinner for 
the occasion. Jumping, wrestling, boxing, throwing 
(lie hammer, and pitching horseshoes, were enjoj r ed 
with a hearty, noisy abandon, in which these big, 
strong men sought to hide the tinge of homesickness 
that would creep in with the memories of the day. 

As the fun was at its height, two men, one clad in a 
sleek, brown minkskin, the other in a coal-black bear- 
skin overcoat, were noticed approaching the cabins, 
The one with the bearskin coat, whose bristling red 
hajr and stubby beard proclaimed his Hibernian an- 
cestry, walked up to Mr. Thompson, and without other 
ceremony or salutation began, u This is Calhoun, the 
sheriff of this county, an' L'm Phelan. We've come 
to see what ye mane by cuttin' the timber on my land." 

Without waiting for a. reply, lie proceeded. "Ay ye 
pile yer dunnage onto yer tote teams an' lave at onct, 
ye can give me yer bill o' sale to the timber ye've 
browed, an* we'll let it drop. Ave ye don't, well, ye 
know what we do here to timber thaves." 

The crew had gathered about, and a sound came 
from them like a low growl of an angry beast. The 
hand of the sheriff went to his hip, but Mr. Thompson's 
voice rang out clear and cold: "Stop, men! I handle 
this. Now you. Larry Phelan, I've heard of you. You 
certainly are qualified to talk about timber thieves — 
bit you've got the wrong man this time. Mr. Med- 
ford took precaution to give me the field notes of this 
tract, and I have run the lines and know exactly where 
I am. Xow I give- you just ten minutes, you and your 



136 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

bogus sheriff, to get out of sight, or my men and I will 
start a new game — and it won't be a game of bluff.' 1 

There was that in the voice of the speaker which 
left no doubt that he meant what he said. And while 
Phelan cursed and vowed he would "have a posse upon 
them that would move them," the two strangers turned 
away to where their team was standing in the dis- 
tance. 

Mr. Thompson was not altogether easy in his mind 
over the affair, although he felt sure as to his legal 
right upon the tract. He knew Larry Phelan to. be 
the most unscrupulous timber thief in that section of 
the state, and who was more than suspected of having 
arrangements for his own advantage with certain of- 
ficers of the courts. But more serious were his appre- 
hensions of the threat of Phelan as to his "posse," for 
a more reckless and desperate band of outlaws never 
served another villain than this Irishman had gath- 
ered about him in that northern wilderness. If 
Phelan considered the stake large enough, a descent 
upon the camp by these ruffians was something to be 
taken into consideration. 

Shortly after the opening of the new year, the suc- 
cessful completion of the winter's work was threatened 
in a way that served to put all thoughts of Larry 
Phelan out of mind. It came with a "January thaw." 
Day after day the sun rose clear and bright in the 
heavens, and the south Avind came in spring-like mild- 
ness. The melting snows filled the hidden hollows 



WINTER IN THE LUMBER WOODS 137 

in the woods with slush and water, into which the chop- 
pers unsuspectingly dropped, sometimes -waist deep, 
while the wet snow kept the clothing of the entire crew 
constantly saturated. 

Notwithstanding the growing discomfort of the 
situation, no let up on the work could be allowed, as 
hope argued for a soon return of zero weather. 

The pressure of the immense loads upon the main 
road had made of it an almost solid bed of ice, and so 
it was that with the aid of an extra team from the 
skidways to the main road, the hauling operations 
were not seriously interfered with at the first. 

But the warm days continued, and the sharp calks 
of the horseshoes began to tear up the surface of the 
icy road. "If we could only keep the smooth ice sur- 
face on the road, we could make it; but a few more 
days of such cutting and the road is ruined," gloomily 
exclaimed Mr. Thompson, as the crew gathered for a 
noon meal. 

Ed started to speak, but being only a boy, and 
fearing the railery of the men, waited until he could 
talk to Mr. Thompson privately. "I don't know, Mr. 
Thompson, that the plan would work here, but I've 
an idea that you might think over, and try if you 
wished," said he. 

"Go ahead, 4ioy," replied Mr. Thompson. "Any 
sort of a suggestion will be welcome just now." 

"Well," said Ed, "we boys used to slide down a hill 
one winter on skis, and when some warm days came 
that threatened to spoil our track, we watered it at 



138 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

night, and the coating of ice held where the snow 
would have melted. I thought — " 

"Boy, you've hit it! I suspect you've saved the con- 
tract," exclaimed Mr. Thompson. 

That was a busy afternoon for Lars Olson, the 
carpenter-blacksmith, but by nine o'clock that night a 
water-tight tank had been fitted upon a sled, with a 
rude attachment something like a street sprinkler, 
under control of the driver. 

While the contrivance was open to improvement 
(which it later received as it took its place in the 
necessary equipment for logging operations) it en- 
abled Mr. Thompson to give his road a coating of ice 
before morning, and, Avith the operation repeated night 
after night, to defy the sun's destroying rays a little 
longer. 

It would be interesting to tell how, in the race for 
the chopping championship, big Olaf grew careless 
and had a leg crushed by the unexpected side swing 
of a falling tree; how Mr. Thompson, at the risk of 
failing on the contract, fixed up a comfortable bed on 
a pung, and sent Ed with an illy-spared team to carry 
the wounded man to his home. It would make another 
how Ed was lost upon his return trip, in the great 
snow storm that marked the end of the warm spell, and 
was saved from death by an old Irishman after he had 
already become unconscious. We would like to tell 
how, when the cold days returned, Antoine Kaven- 
stein's grays beat the bays with a prodigious load, that 
was talked about for years, as the record for hauling, 



WINTER IN J\;v. LUMBER WOODS 139 

in those northern camps. We would like to live again 
with the reader the glorious days of Februarys in 
which the contract was completed, and in addition to 
the agreed wages, each man was given a bonus of ten 
dollars by Mr. Thompson. But I must leave 
stories to be told at another time. 

The winter passed; March came with its rains, and 
finally those of the crew who had elected to remain 
at the camp in order to be at hand to join the "drive," 
one day were startled to hear the report as of a heavy 
cannon, in the direction of the brows on the river. 

When they reached that place they found Bally 
Tarbox with his crew of brow-breakers loosening 
up, with charges of dynamite, the great ice-locked i 
of logs which were filling the river bed. 

"Hullo, you lop-eared nesters!" shouted the boss at 
the sight of the men from the camp. ''Time for you 
to be hitting the trail and grabbing a peavy. Wan- 
gan's above Big Bull." 

"Where 'd you get that woodchuck?" he called as 
he 'caught sight of Ed. "Oh, it's one of the Allen boys, 
ain't it. Say, little sawed-off', your big Bud is comin' 
down North Fork now.' 1 

The next morning Ed started with the others of his 
crew up river to join his brother Rob on the spring 
drive. 



CHAPTER XV 
OVER THE RAPIDS 

Following the river trail, and being welcomed free- 
ly to the temporary camps of the gangs of "brow- 
breakers," at a little past noon of the second day, Ed 
and his companions of the winter's logging camp 
came to the head of the drive on North Fork. 

The heavy rains had set in, and the river, swollen 
by the floods of melted snow, was already a torrent 
of crashing, grinding ice cakes. As the ice went out, 
the river would be filled with the booming logs, which 
floated loosely, often banks full for miles, from the 
disintegrating "brows" along the stream. 

Instead of meeting his brother, as he had hoped, 
Ed was informed that Rob had been sent over to the 
wangan above Big Bull, where the drive on the main 
stream was already in motion. The boss, looking over 
the small stature of Ed, remarked, "They're wanting 
polers over there, and we don't want any more here. 
As a sacker you wouldn't be any more account than a 
muskrat, anyhow." 

Although Ed was stockily built, he was quick with 
his feet, and practice had gained him confidence upon 
the floating logs, so poling would be just what he 
woidd desire. 

Ten miles across the country of forest and swamp, 
140 



OVEE THE RAPIDS 141 

where the land was a "sal mated solution" and every 
little creek aspiring to be a river, was not a pleasing- 
prospect for a boy, but there was no oilier way open. 
That journey lived in Ed's memory for years as a hid- 
eous nightmare. Plashing in mud, tearing through 
thickets of briers and underbrush, wading shallow, 
icy creeks — and swimming one that was too deep to 
wade — losing himself in the darkness, stumbling along 
blindly, by chance — or, we had better say, by the guid- 
ing hand of good Providence — Ed finally came to the 
brink of the river, and knew by the depth of the over- 
flow that he had reached the stream above Big Bull 
dam. 

Again Providence guided his choice, and he turned 
downstream and soon came in view of the campfires 
of the drive. Too utterly exhausted to do aught else, 
Ed stretched himself by a big log fire among the sleep- 
ing men, to get what rest he might, in the short space 
of the night that remained. 

It was yet dark when the voice of the boss aroused 
him, and he followed with the men to their early break- 
fast of pork and beans, biscuit and syrup, and strong, 
black coffee. 

There he soon found Rob, and the meeting compen- 
sated Ed for the hardship of the journey. Rob told 
him that Bally Tarbox had arrived the night before, 
and had taken charge of the drive, and he had looked 
for Ed to come over and join the polers. 

While the work of the polers was more dangerous 
than that of the sackers, it was much more agreeable, 



142 • BOYS OF THE OLD SKA BED 

and, too, the wages were three dollars a day. while 
the pay of the sackers was but a dollar and a quarter 

to a dollar and a half. 

By the time a dim twilight told that another cloudy 
day had begun, Rob and Ed, with their long ash poles 
to balance themselves, were upon the river, riding the 
logs as they iloated along with the'rapid current. The 
water had been held back by the big dam until a great 
drive of logs had gathered, and then the gates were 
opened for the logs to rush through and on down the 
river with the falling waters. It was the work of the 
polers to see that none of the logs lodged in the months 
of the little creeks, and to keep them moving while they 
were in the river. 

It was inevitable that some of the logs should re- 
main stranded upon the banks as the water receeded, 
and this brought in the work of the sackers. Their 
implements were not long poles, such as the log riders 
used, but stout staves about five feet in length. Upon 
one side of each was a steel hook, and in the end a 
long, sharp spike. These were called "peaveys." Where 
the stranded log was small and at some distance from 
the water, a row of men would approach it upon either 
side, and, picking it up bodily with their hooks, would 
carry it to the river. Where the log was too large to 
carry, it would be rolled over and over at a rapid rate 
until it went splashing into the water. 

It not infrequently happened that a big log would 
be found in such a position that the sackers would be 



OVER THE It A 1*1 OS 143 

obliged to wade out into the icy water waist deep be- 
fore the great trunk would float free. 

Many a time Ed and Rob had been thankful for 
their good fortune as polers when they would hear the 
boss roll out a torrent of curses upon the sackers as 
they hesitated upon the icy plunge on some particular- 
ly cold morning. 

While the sackers might count on being wet every 
day, and nearly all day of ever}* day. the polers were 
by no means exempt from that source of discomfort. 
Frequently, in making the jump from one log to an- 
other, a foot would slip, or, the distance mis-calculated, 
a sudden bath be provided among the crashing logs. 
Again, a moment of careless inattention would de- 
liver the log rider to the tender mercies of a "sweep," 
or an unsettling blow from another log. Sometimes. 
iver must needs be crossed, a log would be 
si-j^,>.. which would prove too 

light to sustain the v tckers 

would howl their derision at the poler >>v.. 
into the water by his "steed." 

Rob never forgot one such experience he had on 
Easter Sunday of that year. It was just after the 
gates had been lifted at Jennie Bull dam, and the 
crew of an hundred and fifty men were striving with 
all their might to hurry all the logs through before 
the water should go down. The day had opened bleak 
and dreary. A raw wind swept down the river from 
the north, cutting faces like a saw, and the poor 
sackers, wet to the waist, were in the depths of misery. 



144 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

Then, shortly after noon, the leaden skies began to 
spit snow, and a little scum of ice appeared along the 
edges of the stream. What an Easter Day ! Rob and 
Ed, to whom memories of other Resurrection Sabbaths 
in the city came, with their lilies and joy and song, 
conld be thankful that, so far, they were on the logs, 
dry, and compared with the sackers, warm. 

The polers were stationed on the booms — long logs 
fastened together — and by throwing their poles with 
the sharp, steel spikes into the floating logs would pull 
them along and so hasten their exit through the gate 
of the dam. 

At four o'clock it was already dark, and it would 
be impossible to see clearly enough to work more than 
an hour longer — but the drive must be taken through; 
there conld be no wailing until tomorrow. Hurry! 
hurry ! were the orders. Rob, in his hurry, as he ll>" 
his weight upon a backward pull with h 
suddenly fell ! : ' I over he went 

! i;,io ii river. Luckily, the logs were not 
rig thicMy where he came to the surface hatless, 
and that he was a strong swimmer, for a few strokes 
brought him to the boom and to possession again of 
his pole. 

Oh, if he might go to the wangan camp, there 
before the logheap fire to wring out his streaming, 
freezing clothing and get back a little warmth into his 
stiffening limbs. But no! The logs must be run through 
the dam, and that at once. Every man was needed. 



OVER THE RAPIDS 145 

and nothing short of death itself would be recognized 
by the boss as an excuse for failure to stay by the job. 
During the next hour Rob many times wondered if 
he would not be able to give that excuse and so es- 
cape from the misery of his position, as he labored 
clumsily in his freezing clothes. 

Day by day the cooking outfit, with the sleeping 
blankets — one for each man — went down river ahead 
of the drivers as far as the day's work would probably 
land them. It can be imagined that stores necessary 
for nearly two hundred men, to be carried by boats, 
would be of the simplest character — pork, flour, beans, 
syrup, and coffee, made the basis for the daily fare, 
but the five meals a day were eaten with a hearty 
relish by these strenuous toilers. 

As a rule a dry spot was selected for the camping 
place, and big tents stretched for protection overhead, 
but the one blanket to the man and the bare ground 
for the bed, left something to be desired, even in dry 
weather. When, of necessity, the camping place was 
wet, and the weather freezing, the day suffering of 
the men was but a prelude to the real agony of the 
night. On this drive of which I write it happened that 
more than once the wet clothing of the Allen boys, in 
which they "slept," was found to be frozen to the 
earth in the morning. 

Running the river was no job for a weakling — 
such an one never undertook the experience the second 
lime, nor long for the first time. It was work that told 
heavily upon the strongest of constitutions; few of 



146 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

these men lived to be old, the majority falling vic- 
tims to pneumonia or tuberculosis. 

A little below the third of the big dams the river 
cuts through a stretch of rocky country, ending in a 
rather steep rapids which have a drop of something 
like twenty feet. From the points of rock sticking out 
at almost regular intervals, across the stream, above 
the current in low water, the falls became known as 
"Squaw Walk Rapids." Just below the rapids the 
river takes a sharp turn, and there, in the great, deep 
whirlpool was Dead Man's Hole — a place believed by 
the rivermen to be sure to take its toll of human life 
each spring. 

No log rider was so foolhardy as to attempt the 
passage over the rapids and through the whirlpool of 
his own will; few indeed — none, it was. said — had 
made the trip in safety, having been caught in the 
fierce rush of the waters above, and drawn over the 
rapids on their logs. 

The day had been clear, and, the depression of 
spirit caused by the days of suffering lifting, a spirit 
of roystering play and rough joking possessed the men. 
The polers, selecting small logs, just large enough to 
sustain their weights, were giving exhibitions of fancy 
riding in mid-stream. 

A great shout of glee from Ed Allen caused Rob 
to look back up the river. There he saw, coming ma- 
jestically down toward them, a great log upon which 
were seven or eight sackers, taking an unauthorized 
ride. But there was something in the program of that 



OVER THE EAPIPS 147 

ride which they had not planned, for quickly, relent- 
lessly, they were approaching a low-hanging "sweep 1 ' 
— a tree stretched out over the water. Frantically they 
paddled with their peaveys, striving to throw the 
course of the big log out into tin? stream away from 
the threatening danger, but without avail. The log- 
struck the sweep, the momentum bending the body of 
the tree sharply — when, as the log rolled slightly, 
it was released, and with a lightning-like spring, as 
with a mighty hand the men were brushed off, helter- 
skelter into the river. 

The whole occurrence was indescribably funny to 
the onlookers, and the polers were dancing up and 
down on their logs in high glee, shouting mock en- 
couragement to the luckless men in the water — when 
a roar suddenly brought a check to their merriment. 
Glancing again down stream the boys saw the logs 
ahead of them begin to rise and plunge in the foaming 
water, and they realized that they were nearing the 
rapids. 

Now was the time for putting forth all their 
strength. Unless they should be able to bring their 
logs to shore, they would be carried over into the 
boiling cauldron below. How puny was their strength 
matched against the grip of that mighty current. The 
banks seemed to be rushing by. Here and there jag- 
ged rocks rose above the surface as if to drag them 
down. Their small logs were dancing like corks. It 
was almost impossible to retain footing. 

"It's no use — were's in for it," shouted Rob above 



148 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

the roar of the water and crashing of the logs, as he 
threw the sharp point of his pole into Ed's log and 
brought the two together. Stick your pole into my, log 
and hold on — we'll go together." 

The boys never lost the picture of that awful mo- 
ment at the brink of the rapids — the sharp rock"? 
churning the river into milky foam; the logs leaping 
and, striking, going end over end; the indescribable 
roar and confusion — the coming of Death with the 
demand that he be looked squarely in the face. I am 
sure that both boys prayed — and then the blue sky, 
and the sun overhead, the rushing river, and the 
crashing logs — and themselves, ceased to exist, 

How or by whom they were rescued from the river 
below, neither of the boys ever knew. But their ap- 
parently lifeless bodies had been carried to camp and 
there, after long exertion, they had been brought back 
to life and consciousness. 

For that season, at least, Dead Man's Hole had 
been robbed of its prey. 

After the drive had come through the lowest dam 
and passed the rapids there came days so ideal that 
the rivermen could not believe they were the same fel- 
lows that so short a time ago would have almost wel- 
comed death, if only they might have escaped their 
miseries. 

Great, snow-white clouds lazily floated overhead in 
the deep blue; the sun filtered down upon the river 
in patches of golden warmth ; the men, out of sight of 
the boss, stretched themselves luxuriously upon big 



OVER THE RAPIDS 



149 



logs, and floated with the current. Save for the oc- 
casional stoppage of a jam the days were, as Bally 
Tarbox put it, "one continual picnic with five hoi 
meals a day throwed in." 

There were occasional days of shivering cold; days 
of lowering clouds and steady rain, when river and 
sky seemed to mingle, and beds of sodden earth 
brought no comfort at the close of sodden days. But 
each day's run brought the drive further down into 
the deeper channel and higher banks of the lower river, 
where the labor was less severe, and a night of dry 
lodging and a meal of home cooking could occasionally 
be had from the home of some pioneer settler. 

The days grew longer, the trees budded, and some 
varieties broke forth into tender leaf. From overhead 
shrill choruses of red-wing blackbirds greeted the slow- 
moving procession. Woodducks and mallards and 
teal, in all their courting finery, sailed along in the 
clear spaces between the floating logs, quick to make a 
distinction between the peaveys of the river men and 
the gun of the cook. Squirrels, red and grey and 
coal black, chattered and scolded as they scampered 
from bough to bough. Occasional glimpses were had 
of raccoons fishing for "crabs" on jutting sand bars, 
and the sliding plunge of an otter might be heard as 
one awakened in the night. 

Life was coming back to revel and riot in the big 
woods, and the men passing through were not un- 
touched by its tide. 

While the main drive passed down the river rapid- 



150 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

!y, it was inevitable that the slower work of the sack- 
ers would leave many Logs hung upon the banks by the 
I'ailiiig waters. These would be more slowly worked 
to the river bed, in some eases with ox teams, and then, 
a good deal of water having been stored up above the 
dams to augment the later rains, a "sack drive'* would 
bring the stragglers down to the big boom at Necedah. 
By the time the Allen boys reached the half-mile 
stretch of straight river which marked one boundary 
of their home place, there was not much need of their 
services as polers longer, as the river banks were high, 
and there was little work save iw the jam breakers at 
the head of the drive. So it was, that as the familiar 
buildings came into view, they bade farewell to their 
river companions and were welcomed at home. 



CHAPTEE XVI 

THE GIFT OF THE FLOOD 

The wages from Ed's winter's work at the logging 
camp, together with the sixty dollars each had earned 
on the drive in the spring, enabled the Allen boys to 
purchase a fine span of half-blood, two-years-old Nor- 
man colts, from "Old Man" LaDauger, a half -woods- 
man, half-farmer, whose capacious cabin was a stop- 
ping place for rivermen. and for teamsters going to 
and from the lumber camps. The colts, though huge 
fellows, were as gentle, if as playful, as kittens, and 
Ed soon had them well broken to such tasks as were 
suitable to their age and strength. 

Several acres of the rich, level land had been cleared 
of willow bushes, and the larger bunches of their roots 
dug out. Now, with the sprightly yoke of young oxen 
hitched in front of the colts, the boys had a breaking 
team not to be despised. 

It had been a busy summer for the lads, and the toil 
was severe, but they had a goal ahead, and to them 
hardship and weariness were but milestones on the 
road to its realization. By the time November snows 
were heralded by the "honk, honk" of wild geese, there 
had been a large field of well-plowed land ready for 
the mellowing frosts, and later planting of corn. 

Uncle Henry Thompson pronounced the white oak 
151 



152 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

leases to be "as large as squirrel ears," which marked 
corn planting time. Now the days were hardly long 
enough for the boys. From gray dawn to twilight of 
evening they "dropped and covered" (modern ma- 
chinery was unknown to that time and country) until 
the last hill in the last row was planted with a shout. 

The soft showers fell, and the corn sprouted and 
grew. But an occasional riverman brought word of 
heavy rains up on "headwaters." Signs of weakness 
had been noticed in "Big Bull" dam, and if that should 
break, "Jennie Bull" and "Grandfather," below, 
would be swept away also. 

"What did that mean ? That means a second Noah's 
flood for you fellows," said the rivermen. 

Steadily the rains fell, and steadily the river rose. 
"She is nearly bank full," announced Ed, coming in 
from an inspection late one night. "Lucky that the 
main drive has gone down, or the lumbermen would 
have an all summer job hauling their logs out of these 
high-water sloughs." 

In the night the boj-s were awakened by the "boom ! 
boom! 1 ' as of steady cannonading at a distance. "It 
must be the 'sack drive,' " said Eob. "It would take 
big logs to make that booming." 

"But, Rob, listen! That booming is on the west 
side of the house. You know the river isn't over 
there/' The boys sprang from their bed. and in the 
early morning light beheld a vast expanse of wildly- 
rushing water all about them. Fences were gone, but 



THE GIFT OF THE FLOOD 153 

so far, the substantially framed log buildings of the 
farm were intact. 

"It's the flood !" exclaimed Ed. "Big Bull dam has 
given way ! See those big logs sailing right across our 
corn field." 

Indeed, it was a disheartening situation that day- 
light brought to view. Undoubtedly their corn crop 
was ruined, and Rob's school days were removed to a 
more distant, shadowy future. But another misfor- 
tune was to be revealed. Wading out to the big pine on 
the river bank, to which their flat-bottomed boat was 
moored, Ed brought it to the house, and the boys pad- 
dled out to the barn lots. There they found the cattle 
safe, though knee deep in water, under the sheds. But 
when they came to the sheep fold, the fences were all 
gone, and not a woqly animal was in sight. 

"Dead!" exclaimed Rob. "Every last one of them 
drowned ! And we expected the coming lambs would 
double our flock.' "Maybe they're not all dead," re- 
plied Ed. "Sheep can swim when they have to, 
though of course not far in their heavy wool. But 
see ! the current here sets in to Big Bend timber where 
there are some patches of high ground. We may find 
some of them stranded there. We'll take the boat after 
breakfast, and have a hunt for them. 

Happily, Ed's surmise proved to be correct. Upon 
the small patches of high ground in the big bend they 
found here and there a half -drowned sheep, and in two 
clays of exhausting toil they rescued and carried back 
to life and safety eighteen of their flock of twenty-six. 



154 ROYS OF THE OLD SEA RED 

The crest of the flood past, the waters receded as 
quickly as they had come, and after a few days of 
bright sunshine the boys were aide to learn the extent 
of damage done to their crop. As soon as they came 
upon the ground they saw that it could not have been 
worse. Not only the growing corn, but the soil itself, 
as deep as the plow had loosened it, was wasted away. 
Not only that, but here and there, scattered over the 
field, were logs — hundreds of them — left stranded by 
the receding waters. 

"What shall we do. Ed?" exclaimed Rob. "It will 
take us all summer to get them off our land, and that 
means almost a whole year lost." 

Practical Ed was silent a few moments and then re- 
plied, "Don't worry, Rob, maybe we can get the job of 
hauling them into the river. Let's see whose mark is on 
them." Examining the hack marks on the sides of the 
logs, and the brand in the ends, Rob said, "Well, about 
all of them are the I F brand — they're Isaac Fitts' 
Logs." 

"Whew!" said Ed, "that old bear; but I believe Ave 
can haul them back into the river cheaper for him 
than he can bring a crew up here from Necedah and do 
it. We'll try him. anyway." 

However, the Allen boys were not the only ones 
who were interesting themselves in stray logs left 
ashore by the breaking of the big dams. Next morning 
as they Avere preparing for their trip to tlie sawmill 
town, there appeared a creAv of swampers with teams, 
who, without so much as "By your leave" were pro- 



TIIE GIFT OF THE FLOOD 155 

ceeding to haul the leg's into the river. A big man with 
red whiskers was directing the work, with many a 
shouted oath and curse. "It's not Fitts* crew," said 
"It's some up-river folks. Rob, I believe they're 
rebranding those legs! They're going to- steal them 
from old Fitts. It's Larry Phelan, the timber thief 
and gambler. "I'm going to stop him. He has no 
rights on our ground anyway. You run down after 
Mr. Thompson, he's a Justice, and I'll go warn Larry." 

Although Ed was but a lad. he blustered up to the 
big Irishman, and demanded that he leave those logs 
alone. Back and forth they parleyed. At last Larry 
exclaimed. "They're my 1< gs, an' I'll do as I plaze wid 
." Then to his men who had come up to listen. 
he roared, "Be ail' wid ye to yer work. What are ye 
doin' here !"' 

"You are trespassing on this land," insisted Ed. 
"and these* are Isaac Fitts' logs. I can see what you 
are doing— making an L out of the I and a P out of the 
p and putting your own brand over Ids on the ends." 

"Git out o' here, < r I'll brain ye wid this peavey!" 
shouted the boss, lifting his heavy cant-hook threaten- 
ingly. 

•'Hold on! Hold on!" called Mr. Thompson, com- 
ing up with Rob. "I'm a peace officer of tins township, 
and I warn you that you are committing trespass on 
tliis land. Don't la)' the weigh! of you: 1 linger on that 
lad, or you'll get something more titan a Hue." 

As Larry looked into the eyes of the old man, he 
saw something that had not glowed there since the 



156 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

old days at Harper's Ferry, when Mr. Thompson had 
watched his own young brothers, riddled with bullets,, 
floating down the river — and he quieted down. 

But the stakes were too large — here were at least 
two thousand dollars worth of logs, and nobody but the 
boy had seen the changing of the brands. All that the 
Justice had charged him with could be settled by ;1 
fine, at the worst, and his lawyer could probably beat 
that case with a jury. 

"Misther Thompson, ye ould nigger-stealer, will 
ye tind yer own affairs. I know what I'm doin'. Go 
awn, boys." But no more marks were changed while 
Mr. Thompson stayed. 

"Well, boys,'' said Uncle Henry. "it's no use for 
us to get into a fight with that mob. I'm too old now, 
and you are too young." 

"Uncle Henry," spoke up Rob, "How much nearer 
is it to Necedah by the woods trail than by the prairie 
road?" 

"A matter of four miles," replied Mr. Thompson; 
"but there is no 'crossing at Little Yellow." 

"But I can swim it, even if the water is cold. Four 
from sixteen miles leaves but twelve, and I believe I 
can make it with the 'long trot' in two hours. YYVve 
just got to get Mr. Fitts here. Those logs that Larry 
Phelan is rolling into the river are his." 

"Good, lad! I believe you can clo it. The roads are 
something fearful, but if old man Fit's learns that 
Larry Phelan is stealing his timber, he'll drive his 
buckskins here if he has to swim 'em through the 



THE GIFT OF THE FLOOD 157 

mud half way and run 'em over stumps the other half." 
There remained yet two hours of daylight as Rob 
.swung- into the forest trail on the long trot his Indian 
friend Kalichigoogah had taught him. Little Yellow 
was reached, and in spite of the numbing cold of the 
water, was safely crossed, the lad swimming with one 
hand, while he held the bundle of his clothes high and 
dry in the other. Then on he sped in the long race of 
eight more miles. 

The sun had been down for half an hour when the 
gruff old lumberman opened his door at Rob's knock. 
"Well, an' what do ye want? We don't feed tramps 
here. What! What's that ye say! My logs— an' 'tis 
that blackguard gambler Larry Phelan puttin' his 
brand on 'em and bankin* 'em !" And, to tell the truth, 
the language of the old man was as explosive as had 
been that of Larry himself. 

"Jim, put the buckskins to the light 'democrat.' 
I)i it lad, you're hungry an' tired. Come in, come in an' 
have a snack. Ran it in two-thirty, did ye? An' 
swam the river! Well well ! But we'll tend to the 
rascal this night." 

However, as the old man cooled clown, the need- 
lessness of a night ride over the waste of ruined roads 
and flood-piled debris convinced him of the wisdom of 
waiting until the light of day to make the journey. By 
the time the birds were fairly awake, Mr. Fitts and 
Rob were well upon their way, and Rob had broached 
the matter of securing the job of hauling the logs into 
the river. The old man turned his keen eyes upon the 



158 1JOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

boy. "An' what would ye do with all the money if ye 
got the job? College! What for would a likely lad 
with good sense and good anus fool away his time in 
college? Humph! Well, we'll see." 

Phelan and his men and teams had not been idle: 
all night long they had worked, and fully two hun- 
dred of the five hundred or more stray logs were al- 
ready piled in the river, bearing the changed marks, 
ready to go down to the Necedah boom with the next 
rise. 

Old man Fitts charged the swamping outfit like an 
enraged bull. "So yer at yer old tricks, are ye, Larry? 
I've been wantiir to ketch ye for a long time. An* now 
I've got the witnesses on ye." 

Phelan started in to bluster and curse, but evidently 
the presence of Fitts was something he had net calcu- 
lated upon, nor the fact that Henry and Sam Thomp- 
son, who now arose from where they had been in hid- 
ing, were witnesses to the felonious changing of the log 
marks. 

Larry changed his mood. "Perhaps the men may 
have made a mistake in the dark, Misther Fitts. If 
they're yer logs ye can pay us what is raysonable fer 
bankin' av thim, and we'll jist rail it square." 

u No, we won't, ye thief!" roared the old man. Those 
logs in the river are your logs now, do ye understand? 
They've got yer mark on 'em, every one, an" they'll 
be put into your chute at the boom. An' they've cost 
ye just fifteen dollars the thousand, board measure. Do 
ye understand? "We'll lump "em at twelve hundred 



XHE GIFT OF THE FLOOD 159 

dollars, an' ye'll write the check fer that just now. I 
can trust ye not to stop payment on that check." 

Counter threat and curses; calling the old man a 
rubber (for Fins had made a gilt edge price on his 
logs), were of no avail. Larry Phelan, at the end of 
many evil deeds, faced an open prison door, and he 
knew it. After all. the twelve hundred dollars would 
not be all loss— and the check was written. 

"Well, now, boys," said Mr. Fitts, when the men 
and teams had departed, "what about the balance of 
these logs?- -three hundred, I should say. How would 
a dollar apiece do? Yes, that's fair. Ye can worry 
them all in by fall. An' young man," said he, turning 
to Rob with a queer smile, "You can count the hauling 
of the two hundred already in the river, as your share, 
.for that college nonsense. I tacked that much onto 
that thief, Larry Phelan. I reckon college won't ut- 
terly ruin a lad who can run twelve miles an* swim an 
icy river." 



CHAPTER XVII 
THE TRAGEDY OF THE MOUNDS 

Notwithstanding the strenuous work of the sum- 
mer, the boys got together frequently to talk over 
their plans for the future. Dauphin and Rob would 
begin together their studies in the preparatory depart- 
ment of Carlton College, while Ed would look for- 
ward to the time when he would be older and could 
join them. 

Professor Hodge had written Dauphin that the 
college would accept his Natural History collection at 
a price which would enable him to finish his prepar- 
atory course and enter college, by working a part of 
his time, and the care of Science Hall was offered him 
to supply that need. Rob had no friends or acquaint- 
ances in the college town, but that fact did not dismay 
him. Mr. Allen had taught his boys that difficulties 
were but stepping stones up the heights of achievement, 
to the one who had a clean life and steady will. Rob 
had both, and, whatever the price demanded of effort 
and grit, he determined to have an education. 

Dauphin would be a naturalist. He would need the 
training of the college to give him quick perception, 
ability to classify his knowledge, and arrive at correct 
conclusions. He would need to study the languages in 

160 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE MOUNDS 161 

order that what had been revealed in the research of 
men of other lands might be his. 

Rob had not yet chosen the line of his life work, 
but he was equally sure with Dauph that success and 
fame awaited boys who would apply themselves as they 
intended to do. Many were the happy, earnest hours 
spent by the boys in talking over the years they had 
spent together, as well as the years that were to come. 
How marvelously their lives had been spared, many 
times, since they had made their home in the forest 
wilderness. Through dangers of fire and drowning 
and freezing, one or another of them had been snatched 
back from the grave. The work of these pioneer boys 
had been hard, but it had developed them into lads of 
tough fiber, both of body and brain. They had had no 
idle hours; whether at work out of doors, or during 
the long evenings of the winters, they had their pur- 
pose in view — to prepare for life through college. If 
their few dollars earned were jealously put away for 
this purpose, no less were their minds trained by study 
for the necessary preparation. 

The days of August were drawing rapidly to a 
close; soon farewells must be said, and the delights of 
forest and stream, as well as the duties of the farm, 
be laid aside by the older boys for years, if not forever. 

"Boys," said Dauphin, "Professor Hodge, in one of 
his letters, suggested that he would like the measure- 
ments of the hill and river forts, and the old mound 
city, for a paper he is preparing on 'The Mound- 
builders in Wisconsin.' Let's take a couple of days, 



162 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BEI> 

and do a little more exploring, and sketch the mounds, 
and take the measurements for the professor." 

The boys readily agreed to the plan, and Ed sug- 
gested that they go by the Indian camp at the mouth 
of Little Yellow, opposite Jim Dacora's, and persuade 
their friend Kalichigoogah to accompany them over to 
the mound village. 

The young Indian welcomed the boys to the camp, 
and his mother, Menominee Mary, invited them to rest 
a bit in the wigwam. The earth floor was as neat and 
wholesome as the floor of a parlor. Around the sides 
were the couches, platforms raised about a foot from 
the floor and heavily covered with the soft-dressed 
and ornamented skins of bear, lynx, raccoon, and deer. 
The Indian mother offered the boys sweet, ripe black- 
berries in white, birchbark dishes, but when they men- 
tioned the object of their expedition there came over 
her a quick stiffening of body, and a startled look, al- 
most of fear in her eyes. "Butte-des-morts" said she 
using the French description, "much bad. White boys 
stay here — not go." But the boys, of course, were de- 
termined to go on, notwithstanding the warning of the 
Indian woman, which they were wholly at loss to un- 
derstand. After the return of the Winnebagoes 
from the South, Mary had placed her son in a mis- 
sion school where he had learned to read, and had 
acquired much of the way, and some of the habits of 
thought of the white race; but there are things of ones 
early life that no subsequent training or polish will be 
able to remove. Thus it was with the Indian lad's 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE MOUNDS 163 

veneration or superstitious fear of the mysterious relics 
of the mounclbuilders— places of "big medicine." 

He was willing to explain to the boys the cause of 
his mother's warning, but was as loth as she that these 
sacred places should be disturbed. "They mounds of 
dead," said Kalichigoogah. Big men, tall like trees, 
make camp there. One clay come snake, long like Min- 
nenecedah [the Yellow river] — big men make medi- 
cine: snake turn into long mound. One clay come great 
beast — two spears like logs in mouth [elephant] — big 
men make medicine, great beast turn into big mound. 
Not good white boys go near mounds. Angry spirit 
wake up; kill boy." 

The white boys agreeing that they would not dig 
into the mounds at this time, but only take measure- 
ments, and make a plan of the old encampment, the 
Indian mother consented, though with great reluctance, 
for her son to accompany the party. But first she 
would put into his keeping a little buckskin sack con- 
taining "strong medicine" — potent charms — which 
might be able to protect them from the vengeance of 
the spirits, should they be aroused. 

As there was no need for them to hunt game, and 
the danger from bears, or wild cats, panthers or lynx 
small indeed, at that time of year, the boys had not 
burdened themselves with their guns, but Kalichigoo- 
gah wrapped his blanket about his new 16-shot Win- 
chester, which the boys accused him of taking along to 
shoot the ghosts. The Indian lad made no reply to 
their chaffing, but strode off in silence. 



164 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA RED 

The Yellow river was waded on a sandbar, and the 
river flat, a mile or more in width, crossed. Here, the 
annual overflows had cut the soft alluvial soil into 
deep, wide ditches, so that the land looked like a suc- 
cession of long breastworks. The flat was heavily tim- 
bered with oak and hickory and linden, with an oc- 
casional gigantic pine rearing its head high above the 
deciduous trees, like a sentinel of the forest. Here 
the woods-folk still dwelt in comparative safety from 
their most ferocious brother animal — man. It was 
going to be hard for Dauph and Rob to part from this 
paradise of the nature-lover. 

Up, out of the river flats, they came upon the sandy 
plain which stretched eastward to the Wisconsin river, 
and then on to the shore of the old sea bed. Gnarled, 
stunted pines covered the ground, in some places grow- 
ing in such profusion as to form almost impenetrable 
thickets, but generally in more open growths, so that 
walking was even less difficult than in the river "bot- 
toms." 

Several times as they, boy-like, threshed through 
one of the thickets they would start up a doe and her 
half-grown fawn, and once they aroused a splendid 
buck, with the season's antlers now full grown. 

"Boys," said Ed, "aren't we somewhere in the 
neighborhood of the mounds?" 

"I am not sure," replied Dauph, who was taking 
the lead, "I have never come upon them from this di- 
rection, but unless I am mistaken, they lie just be- 
yond that thicket of scrub pine. How about it, Kali?" 



THE TBAGEDY OF THE MOUNDS 165 

But the Indian boy would make no reply. Evi- 
dently the expedition was not at all to his liking. 

In "Indian file" the boys entered the thicket of 
dwarfed pines, the deerskin cap of Dauphin, the leader, 
who was the tallest, just showing above the foliage. 
They had gone perhaps twenty rods into the thicket, 
when a rifle shot rang out sharp and clear, and Dau- 
phin sprang high into the air with a loud cry, and 
fell in a crumpled heap at the feet of Kalichigoogah. 
Like a flash out came the Winchester from beneath the 
blanket of the Indian boy, as he placed himself over 
the prostrate body of his white friend, ready to 
give his own life in defense, if need be, 

For a moment Ed and Rob were paralyzed with 
fear. Who had fired the shot? Were they all about 
to be murdered? Then, as there was no second shot, 
their courage returned, and they crashed through the 
thicket to the opening on the side from which the re- 
port seemed to come, but there was not a soul in sight: 
neither was it possible, because of the bed of pine 
needles strewing the ground, to discover any track. 

Thoroughly mystified, they hastened back to their 
wounded comrade. There they found Dauphin with 
his head raised upon the lap of the Indian lad, con- 
scious, but rapdiry weakening from loss of blood from 
an ugly wound in his side. Rob tore off his cotton shirt 
and as best he could applied a bandage to stop the 
flow of blood. 

"We've got to get a doctor right away, and we've 
got to get Dauph home," announced Ed. "We might 



166 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

do more harm than good if we tried to carry him our- 
selves, so, Kali, you had better hurry over to your camp 
and have the men come on their ponies, and rig up a 
litter." The Indian lad looked up in a mute appeal to 
not be sent away from his stricken friend, but as it 
became clear that this was perhaps the only chance 
to save Dauphin's life, he hastened away on his errand. 

"Rob, you are the best runner; you had better get 
down to Necedah as soon as you can, and get Doctor 
Cook up. We can't tell how badly Dauph is hurt." 

Who can describe the thoughts of that young lad, 
left alone with his dying comrade? for the wound 
proved, indeed to be unto death. Ed was not natur- 
ally superstitious, but the unexplained shot following 
the Indian's warning could not help but have a terrify- 
ing effect, deepening as the hours brought darkness 
upon him. 

Some of the time the wounded boy was delirious, 
and imagined that the Indians were attacking them, 
and in his endeavors to spring up it was all Ed could 
do to restrain him. At length the Indians arrived 
on their ponies, and a rude but serviceable litter was 
made, upon which the red men, two at a time, carried 
Dauphin to his home. 

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had been no strangers to 
sorrow and death ; their lives had known many be- 
reavements and years of suffering, but Ed never forgot 
the agony of the hour in which he bore to them the 
knowledge of the accident to their young son. 

Before morning Rob arrived with Doctor Cook, 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE MOUNDS 167 

from Necedah, but it was too late. The spirit of the 
lad they had all so fondly loved, had passed out, and 
Dauph was dead. 

Mr. Allen at once notified the authorities and a 
thorough search was made for some clue to the one who 
had fired the fatal shot, but without success; and it 
was not until years afterward that a man in a distant 
state confessed to the facts. He said that with a com- 
panion he had been on a hunting trip to the northern 
part of the state, and shortly after having passed the 
old mounds they saw a patch of gray deer-skin moving 
along in the top of a thicket, and supposed it to be a 
part of the head of a deer and had fired. The cry of 
a human being that followed had shown their horrible 
mistake, and in a cowardly fear of possible conse- 
quences they had hidden in the thicket until after dark 
and then slipped away. 

A new experience had entered the life of the Allen 
boys — Death. For the first time they had looked in 
the still face of one who had been near and dear, and 
heard it said "He is dead." 

What is death ! Where was the boy who, just a few 
hours before, had been with them so full of hope and 
joy and vigor? Had he ceased to exist? Was that 
dead body, so soon to turn to dust, all that was left of 
their friend? Or, was the real Dauphin somewhere, 
yet alive, and entering upon an existence in which all 
his powers and aspirations would have full scope, un- 
hindered by earthly limitations? 

Was it not really true that somewhere there was a 



168 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

God. who had made all this marvelous universe, and 
man with the ability to discover and enjoy its secrets? 
Did He make man like Himself? Would not man of 
necessity have to he like Him in order to enjoy all that 
He had created? What did it mean to be like God? 
Were they like God? If not, how could they be- 
come so? 

Not the words of these questions, but that which 
stood for them, filled the hearts of the boys, as 
they looked upon the silent face of their lost comrade. 
A new realm, a spiritual, was even then being opened 
to them, and their angel was bidding their feet to 
enter. 

The plan for happy college years together for 
Dauph and Rob was at an end. Alone the lad would 
leave home and start forth upon his journey into the 
strange, untried world. Yet not alone, for, although 
the dear face of flesh was hidden from sight, he felt 
that the bright, pure spirit of his comrade was still 
with him to beckon him on to the heights. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

COLLEGE DAYS 

Had you met him as he trudged along the dusty 
road on that day of early September, you would have 
little suspected that you had come into the presence of 
a hero; but the stuff of which heroes are made is not 
carried in the way of outward observing, having its 
place within. Records of the world's great deeds give 
the place of honor and fame to those who have taken 
cities and subdued peoples, but the Book of books says 
that a greater hero than he who conquers a city is he 
who rules his own spirit. 

That he was one of the "greater heroes" Robert 
Allen was to make proof. 

Had your curiosity prompted you to question the 
lad, as you met him, he would have told you that he 
was on his way to enter Carlton College: and had there 
crept into your voice a note of friendliness, enthusiasm 
would have kindled in his blue-gray eyes, and he would 
have confided to you the great ambitions that had been 
crowding in upon the fifteen years of his young life. 
As he recounted the sacrifices that had been made in 
his humble home, and the purpose and high courage 
for the years of struggle before him, you would not 
have seen the poor clothes, the awkward, uncouth man- 
ner, but would have given heed to the strong, clean. 

manly soul within. 

169 



170 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

Robert Allen found employment at the college by 
which, working half his time, he could spend the other 
half with his books. That he was the victim of hard 
circumstances, or that there was any sort of injustice 
to him in the fact that he had to saw and carry up 
wood for the wealthy boys, and do other menial labor, 
never entered his thoughts. That his grand dreams 
were coming true, and he was actually privileged to 
study in a college, and sometime would be able to 
graduate, was too wonderful and precious to allow any 
other sentiment than gratitude to have place in his 
heart. 

While Eob was, for his age, a well-read boy and at 
home with many of the great ones of literature, he 
found it difficult at first to bring his mind to the hab- 
its of study required by a college course. The class 
room was a place of especial torture; of the twenty- 
six students in his class, more than half were young 
ladies, and when, after hours spent upon amo, amas, 
amat, etc., Eob would arise to recite he would feel the 
eyes of all those elegant girls fixed upon him and his 
poor clothes. Then, the sheep before his shearer was 
no more dumb than Rob before the Latin teacher. 

After several trials and failures Rob sought the 
kind-hearted professor and requested the privilege of 
reciting privately to him in his room, telling him of 
his confusion and its cause. The professor, with kindly 
tact and Christly love, soon had the boy at his ease, and 
drew from him the story of his aspirations and pur- 
poses. Then, instead of granting his request, he said, 



COLLEGE DAYS 



171 



''Robert, you prepare your lesson and come to the class 
room as usual, and when you are called upon to recite, 
look into my eyes, and remember that you are speaking 
to a friend who knows and understands." 

It was not long before the personal sympathy of 
the young professor made itself felt in greater con- 
fidence, and the boy was able to hold his place in the 

class. 

In the winter term a revival meeting was held in 
the college church. Rob had never become a Christian, 
though often he had wished he might be. lie had been 
well reared, morally, and his life knew nothing of the 
grosser sins common to so many of our young men and 
boys. Swearing, Sabbath-breaking, drinking, smoking, 
and card-playing were evils of which he had no experi- 
mental knowledge; but he knew that he was not a 
Christian; that he had not been born of the Spirit. 
While his roommate, Tom Wright, made sport of the 
preacher, and would bring in his set of rough boys for 
a "high time" after the services, Rob was thoughtful 
and serious. One night Professor Jackson, his Latin 
teacher, walked home with him from the meeting and 
in an earnest, friendly way urged George to become a 
Christian; adding the assurance that he was praying 

for him. 

Rob thanked the professor and walked up to his 
room. One time, at least, Satan helped, for Tom 
Wright and his fellows remained out nearly all night 
upon a wild lark. Rob, his heart strangely stirred, 
felt that he could not sleep, and at last flung himself 



172 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

at the side of his bed crying, "O God, I want to be a 
Christian. I don't know how, but You know how to 
make me one, and I'll never leave this bedside until I 
am saved." 

Rob prayed on in his stumbling way until it seemed 
that he could do no more, when all at once there came 
into his heart a beautiful stillness. He felt as light 
as a feather, and as happy as a bird. He could not 
stay in his room; and throwing open the door he ran 
down the corridor to Professor Jackson's room and 
awoke him with the glorious tidings that his prayer 
had been, answered and he was saved. 

Rob's first real test came the following night at 
bedtime. When he was ready for bed there were two 
or three of Tom Wright's gang in the room with him, 
and wdien Rob, with the courage of a genuine hero, 
knelt by the bedside and began to thank God for His 
goodness, and claim His promise for future help and 
guidance, the boys were, for the moment, dumbfound- 
ed. Then they broke out into cursing and reviling. 
They declared they would have no pious hypocrite 
around there, even if they had to throw him down 
stairs. 

Night after night the persecution kept up, when- 
ever one of the others would be in the room at bedtime. 
They would tie Rob to the bedpost as he prayed; they 
drenched him with ice water; and, harder than all to 
bear, they followed his praying with vile and hideous 
blasphemy. But Rob had enlisted under the banner 



COLLEGE DATS 173 

of Jesus Christ, Who, when He was reviled, reviled 
not again, and Who blessed when He was cursed; so 
the fierce trial but deepened his real experience of 
grape. He became an active worker for his Master 
among his college mates, and had the joy of seeing 
several converted through his efforts. 

Serious breaches of discipline had occurred in the 
dormitory some two months after Robert's conversion, 
and one Sunday night Professor Jackson was depu- 
tized by the Faculty to stay in his room during the 
church service and endeavor to get some clue to the 
transgressors. After church had well begun, Tom 
Wright and his crowd, who were all supposed to be at 
the service, got out an old fiddle, and with some rough 
characters from the town, proceeded to have a dance 
in the halls, all unconscious of the presence of the pro- 
fessor in the adjoining room. The "fun" became furi- 
ous, and one of the boys undertook to act the character 
of "pious Bob Allen" for the amusement of the strang- 
ers, the others using the name of .Robert as if he were 
realty present. 

As the other students began to return from the 
service, the uproar subsided, and when Rob reached 
his room his roommate was already there, apparently 
having just returned from church. The next day, with 
a very grave face, Professor Jackson called Rob into 
his room. Rob went in smilingly, but his smile faded 
quickly at the stern look of his friend. 

"Where were you last night, Robert? I want to 
give you a chance to confess." 



174 BOYS OF THE OLD SEA BED 

"Why, I was at church. Where should I have 
been?" • 

"Do 3 r ou mean to tell me that you know nothing of 
the disgraceful occurance last night in the hall?" 

"What occurance, sir? Indeed, I know nothing. I 
was at church." 

"Robert, Robert, I am so disappointed in you ! I 
believed you to be a manly young man, and a Christian. 
How could you so forget yourself as to engage in such 
an a if air, and then pretend that you were at church! 
I was here in my room throughout, and heard your 
name called again and again. Because of your previ- 
ous perfect record, no public punishment will be given 
you by the Faculty, but the other boys will be se- 
verely dealt with." 

"Professor, I have told you the truth. Goodbye/' 
and Robert staggered out to his own room, unable to 
fathom the depth of his misery. His poverty and his 
life of toil isolated him from the most of the students. 
How he longed for the quick understanding and sym- 
pathy of his lost friend Dauphin. He had made com- 
paratively few acquaintances in college, and there had 
been but one, the young Latin professor, whom his 
heart had really claimed for a friend. And now that 
one was lost ! That one despised him for a breaker of 
rules, and a liar. O it was too much ! The tempter 
came, as he always does in the moment of our stress, 
and said, "Give it up. Give it all up. It's no use. Go 
back home." 

The battle was fierce, and not soon over. But vie- 



COLLEGE DAYS 175 

tory came — came through the stretched-out Hand that 
had brought him salvation. In the darkness of his 
extremity, the thought came to him that there was One 
who knew all, and he knelt and poured out his soul 
to the comforting Christ. 

Not for a moment afterward did Rob relax his con- 
scientious work either in the class room or in such 
Christian duties as came his way. His manner be- 
came graver, if possible, and a little shyer, but there 
glowed upon the face of the lad a steady light that 
would often cause a wondering look from those who 
passed him by. He had conquered his own spirit, 
and trusting, he looked to God for his vindication and 
his reward. 

Just before the commencement in June, an escapade 
of unusual viciousness caused the expulsion of Tom 
Wright and two of his fellows. 

As the students gathered in the college chapel on 
the last day of school to hear the awards of prizes 
and scholarships that had been won during the year, 
and the white-haired president had come to the Ira 
Morton prize of $50 for the best Latin grades for the 
year, he paused, and wiping his spectacles, said, "In 
connection with the award of this prize, the Faculty 
have delegated to me another pleasant duty. The con- 
fessions of some students whom we were obliged to send 
home, during the past term, opened our eyes to the fact 
that we have had in our midst as true a hero as any 
knight of old; a lad whose courage and faithfulness 
under severe trial and severer suspicion and accusa- 



176 BOYS OF THE OBD SEA BED 

tion has shown a quality of manhood and Christian 
spirit that honors this institution." Briefly the presi- 
dent sketched the career of the boy, then added, "To the 
$50 Morton prize, the Faculty have added another $50 
in recognition of the conflict and glorious victo^ of 
this young man. Mr. Robert Allen, come forward and 
receive the honor which is your due." 

In the years that were to come Robert Allen was to 
rise high in the world, and- receive honor from his 
fellow men, but no honor nor applause ever was able 
to gladden his heart as did this vindication and vic- 
tory he had won through Jesus Christ. 



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